Against All Odds
by dropletsoflight
Summary: VTMB It was absurd, preposterous, insane! Being two rational, calculating control freaks, they believed they had planned it all, thus the most random variable of existence caught them completely off guard. Eventually LaCroixXOC
1. Train of Thoughts

**Against All Odds  
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**Chapter One: Train of Thoughts  
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**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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"Need a Ride?"

Funny how a catchphrase you have heard dozens of times can suddenly take a whole new significance.

Indeed, I most definitely NEEDED a ride, my very un-life depended on it.

I practically jumped in the cab, eyeing the driver with a balanced amount of gratitude and suspicion. Something about him, his voice for instance, had always struck me as odd and mysterious. Since the night I met him, there had been this uneasy feeling in my gut that there was more to him than met the eye.

Our brief conversation revealed that I had been right: he was a Cainite, and seemed to know quite a lot (even too much) about what was going on in the city. Plus he knew Jack… but then again, who didn't, really?

Speaking of Jack, he reconfirmed what the Pirate Legend had told me: finally the time had come for me to choose a side. A moment I had dreaded and tried to postpone as much as possible, by staying on the good side of both the Anarchs and the various members of the Camarilla I had had the "pleasure" to meet. I had done my best to navigate myself away from any topic that may have lead to expressing a definitive opinion; I had been polite and helpful, although I had refused to stoop to the pathetic sucking-up.

Except with everybody's favourite Prince, but with him it was just a matter of survival. I knew from the get-go that he could literally have my head on a platter if I fell from his good grace. Moreover, he basically considered anything short of adoration as insubordination. Despite all of my efforts, it apparently had not been enough, or I wouldn't be sitting in this taxi, being chased by all the West Coast vampires. In reality I had not seen any of my fellow Ventrues on the streets of Santa Monica, but that had not come exactly as a surprise. I was sure it had nothing to do with sympathy for someone sharing the same lineage: they simply let the others do the dirty job, as usual.

Looking back, my fatal mistake had been to let LaCroix know that I was privy to the existence of an alliance between him and the Kuei-Jin. I berated myself for my stupidity for the umpteenth time: why couldn't I have kept my bloody mouth shut? Evidently my attempts to reassure him that I understood and would have done the same hadn't sounded very convincing. Truthfully, I thought it was an incredibly foolish and reckless decision: it was like inviting vipers in your garden to get rid of mostly harmless rats.

The Anarchs may have been a thorn in his side, but they were familiar, and had been already defeated before. Moreover, this used to be their last stronghold, they were practically isolated. Even if they managed to regain some semblance of power, it would be short-lived at best. The Kuei-Jin on the other hand had already proved to be very powerful and very dangerous, and there were too many things we still ignored about them. Never choose the unknown over the familiar: in politics it was most likely suicide.

This brought me back to the matter at hand: my decision. Despite my occasional slips, I had played my cards reasonably well up to this point, so I had many options, besides the very appealing opportunity of telling them all to go to hell and be my own boss, walking a solitary path: a lone wolf, like Beckett. I could join the Anarchs, I could try my luck and go back to the Prince, hoping my return would make him see me as too naïve and trusting to be a threat or I could side with someone in the Camarilla who wanted him gone. Considering his recent behaviour and the many relationships he had strained because of his obsession with the Ankaran Sarcophagus, I wouldn't have to search very hard. Strauss was the most obvious candidate, he could barely conceal his disdain for the Prince and he owed me, most especially for the whole Gargoyle affair.

Of course I could always take up on Ming Xiao's offer: she had been apparently nothing but kind to me and I had reciprocated, but if one peeled away at the several layers of make-up, the resulting portrait would be less than flattering. She was behind the kidnapping of Kine and Kindred alike, hell she was financing a scientific study on the most efficient ways to kill vampires! Trusting her would be pure madness, and even in the extremely unlikely hypothesis that she was sincere I would still be an outcast in her society, and all of her comrades and subordinates alike would take the first chance available to get rid of me.

So one option down, four to go.

The Anarchs: I admit I liked the late Nines Rodriguez, respected his drive and sometimes just wished I could see the world like him and be so passionate about an ideal. Still, I simply wasn't that kind of person, even as a human. Someone may deem me as a pessimist, or as a coward hypocrite who could rightfully belong in Dante's Ante-Inferno. I'd rather call myself a realist, and, despite Damsel's charming claims, I truly could not see how communism could work any better for vampires than it had for humans. In theory it was noble, yes: everybody as one, Kindred in the primitive meaning of the word. Alas, there is and there always will be someone who will try to rule over the others, if there is an ounce of power you can bet someone will try to take it. If humans are power-hungry, vampires are ten times more so, that had been the first lesson I learned in my un-life. In Santa Monica three vampires (or better two personalities and a vampire) were basically on the verge of killing each other for ruling over what, two subordinates?

So, no, Kindred were as far removed from the concept of communism as they could ever be. And about the Camarilla Rules: sure they were logical, they were simple, every wise vampire should follow those spontaneously, there shouldn't be the need for someone to enforce them. Yet, even as a human, most laws were common sense: don't kill, don't steal… That didn't mean that everybody did respect them, quite the opposite. Rules obviously do not deter everyone, but they do work for most people (and most vampires). Even if I was being chased to death for something I most certainly did not commit, I could still see that the Camarilla had a purpose and made sense. Moreover, as I had already said, the Anarchs were isolated, LA was their last bastion and it had fallen. Even if I joined them and we managed to regain control over LA, either the Camarilla or the Kuei-Jin would try another assault very soon, and I just couldn't see myself spending my un-life fighting for a cause I did not believe in.

So two options down, three to go.

Being a "lone wolf": that was appealing. When I had been first introduced to the manipulations of the senior, the concept of the Clans, the sects, the war, I remember feeling this overpowering desire to just give them all the proverbial middle finger and run away. How was I involved in any of this? Why should I care? It's not my war, I wasn't even born, no my great-grandparents were not even born when most of the events that caused these animosities happened. I still felt quite that way, although I had developed a fierce revulsion for the Sabbat. They stood against everything I believed in and I prayed that I never let the Beast turn me into such a twisted monster. I remembered when I stepped in that Hollywood Manor where they filmed the snuff tape: I had had to force myself not to throw up.

Anyway, now more than ever the possibility of tracing the steps of Beckett sounded alluring. But I wasn't him: sure, for a combination of sheer luck and some skills I had managed to accomplish in two years more than most vampires did in a century. I wasn't a Neonate in the original meaning of the word anymore. Still I wasn't a superhuman warrior: I used my brain, stealth and disciplines more than brute force and tried to avoid all-out fights if at all possible. I wasn't sure I could afford to become a Legend and therefore be the target of Bounty Hunters, Kine and Kindred alike, that wanted to prove they could surpass me and bring my scalp home for a trophy. I wasn't that confident in my abilities: hell, I was amazed I had managed to survive this far. Maybe in a few decades of years, maybe when I had more skills, more connections, more knowledge of the inner workings of vampire societies and how to avoid being crushed between the gears. Now it would be suicide, and, for some strange reasons I wasn't ready to give up on my un-life.

Three options down, two to go.

Consequently I had decided to side with the Camarilla: I guess my unlucky Sire hadn't been completely off the mark in thinking I would make a good Ventrue. Still I didn't see myself as the stereotypical power-hungry social climber. If it didn't affect my chances at leading a mostly hassle-free existence, I wouldn't have cared less about who should be the new Prince, and I entertained no dreams whatsoever of claiming that position one day. Power was always more trouble than it was worth, and it was terribly addictive: once you gained some you always craved for more, or feared to lose it. To put it shortly I would have been perfectly content to reach a status where not every other vampire felt entitled to walk all over me and mind my own business from then on. Cultivating my passions, my studies… My studies… To think that not so long ago I used to be an economist, but it really felt like it had been ages, like something out of someone else's life.

Shortly before being Embraced I had just gotten my PhD at the MIT and won a temporary position as researcher at UCLA, which was the reason why I had moved to LA. I had always been much more of a scholar, a mathematician, a theorist than a prospective capitalist, happy in my world of numbers, charts and demonstrations. Sadly, it was not meant to be…

I had met Lawrence at the first dinner party held by the Department. He had been invited as CEO of a flourishing bio-tech firm but there was something about him that struck me as different, unique and made him stand out from the other executives I had had the "pleasure" to meet either because of my family's connections or my job. He looked no older than 35 but seemed so much wiser than his years; a charismatic orator, he was well-versed in many fields and not obsessed with figures and revenues: truly a breath of fresh air. Moreover, he didn't look at me as if I were a piece of flesh, listened carefully to what I had to say and kept his eyes trained on my face instead of my cleavage. Although I wasn't exactly a breathtaking beauty, way too curvaceous for today's fashion standards and never stood out in a crowd or made heads turn, I was young and fresh and not terribly hard on the eyes. As many young women of my age, I tended to attract wealthy men over forty, looking for a diversion or a "cure" for their mid-life crisis.

Lawrence didn't seem to fit the profile and I had felt drawn to him by some magnetic pull. Looking back I wondered if it were a mild Domination. We had dated briefly, always for or after dinner, but with our busy schedules it didn't strike me as odd. Finally one night, in the throes of passions, we had headed to the Luckee Star Motel: I wanted to avoid gossip and speculations so I couldn't bring him to the campus and his apartment was off-limits, since he lived next door to the Head of my Department. I still wondered why he chose me, why he felt such an urge to Embrace me even without permission. What was he up to and more importantly how had LaCroix so rapidly got wind of it? I guessed I would never really have the answers, so I tried my best not to think of it.

Sadly, I failed miserably. A thousand times I had regretted that decision, that weakness, even coming to California. Still, it had been a mixed blessing: at least here it had been easier for me to get off the radars and disappear. Not many familiar faces I risked to run into, nobody that really cared about my fate. With the notable exception of Samantha… She really was my best friend… She had come all the way from Boston to look for me, I still couldn't believe it and I felt terrible at having to lie to her, but it had been for the best. It wasn't that I didn't miss her or my parents, I did, but I knew that I had to leave that life behind or risk hurting them and myself more that I already had. They could never accept what I had become, it would drive them insane. I couldn't hope to hide it, so it was best for them to elaborate their grief now and lose all hopes of having me back, rather than exposing them to a prolonged impotent sufferance.

There, I had strayed off again, even at a critical moment like this. I was supposed to make a decision, not indulge in reminiscence. The driver stared at me through the mirror, and, even with his sunglasses on, I could see he was growing impatient.

All right, so it all came down to a simple question: Strauss or LaCroix?

Both choices had their Strengths and Weaknesses… Oh goodness, I chuckled aloud at the irony of the situation: I was using the SWOT analysis to decide for my life! How insane was that? No, not insane, rational, a part of me provided. Rational, yes, I had always been a logical freak, overanalysing and over-thinking everything. The one time I had acted on impulse had brought this so-called curse upon me, so maybe it wasn't such a bad trait, after all.

The driver cleared his throat and I composed myself. Ok, time to make up my mind.

Strauss: he was surely intelligent, experienced in vampire politics and so far had been quite honest and helpful to me. Of course, I had paid him nothing but favours, but gratitude wasn't an automatic or common feeling among Kindred. He seemed to have taken a liking to me and to trust me, since he had shared some sensitive bits of information that I could have easily used to undermine his reputation. But maybe, as his calling me a Neonate suggested, he merely thought me as too gullible to really pose a threat or he had just taken a calculated risk in order to sway me by his side and deal a fatal blow to the Prince.

With LaCroix's demise there was a high chance that he no longer would have any use for me, and his behaviour might change dramatically. I may become a threat to him: after all if I betrayed LaCroix for him, he had no guarantee that I wouldn't do the same to him at a later time… Plus he was a Tremere, which wasn't necessarily bad per se, I had no prejudices in that sense, but, as he had admitted himself, his first loyalties were to himself and to his Clan; the Camarilla came third, at the very least. I wasn't Tremere and as much as he might respect me, that was something that wasn't going to change. There was a very big part of him I could never truly understand and, in the long run, it was bound to have some repercussions. Still, when all was said and done, as for now at least, I trusted him a hundred times more than LaCroix. But that wasn't really saying much.

And finally, my "beloved" Prince. The man who had executed my Sire and spared me to play the magnanimous ruler in the face of his Anarch Nemesis, only to send me on what he surely believed would be a hopeless, kamikaze mission. Unexpectedly I had proved him wrong, and he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I knew from the get go that as long as I was useful and did not pose a threat, we would get along just fine. I really didn't have another choice, it almost seemed as if I had to purchase my freedom: I was no more than a slave, a tool, a property in his eyes. Insubordination was not contemplated, I could do his bidding either willingly or by force, but in the end I had to comply anyway. Thus I had decided to spare myself the trouble and be the good little soldier he wanted me to be, playing up on his Napoleon Complex and telling him what he wanted to hear. Our relationship had seemed to improve with my accomplishments: outwardly he now treated me as his best agent, the apple of his eye, his treasured protégée. He even indulged in some casual conversations and, to an external observer, we would have given the impression to be perfectly at ease in each other's presence. Up until my fatal mistake, of course.

However, not all was lost. I could still get back on his good side: he was so obsessed with that bloody Sarcophagus that I knew I could get almost anything out of him if I brought him back the key… But, really, how long would it last? It was like Aesop's fable of The Farmer and The Snake: even the greatest kindness will not bind the ungrateful. I actually would have trusted the snake more than him.

Yet, although I didn't like him in any sense of the word, I had to admit I felt a strange admiration for his ability to turn the tables in his favour at the speed of lightning and tell the most blatant lies with a charmingly straight face. You just had to give him credit: he was born for his role, to be a consummate politician, and, even if he had made a lot of mistakes as of late, you could easily see how he had gotten where he was.

Moreover, he was a familiar "evil": at least I knew what to expect from him, both in the best and worst case scenario. Really, it couldn't get much worse than this… On the other hand, who knew what his successor would be like? Funny, yet another Aesop's fable came to mind: the one of The Frogs Asking For A King. Of course LaCroix was no log of wood: he was dangerous and governed with a velvet-gloved iron fist. Still, there was no guarantee whatsoever that a new prince would be more honest or less selfish. Au contraire, virtuous Kindred usually did not make it to the top, if they ever did.

"Have you made up your mind, Childe? The Sun does not wait."

He was right: I had to fight against the procrastinator in me and stop over-analysing things. Time was up.

It was an internal struggle between my rule of "Not choosing the unknown over the familiar in politics" and the moderate probability that the next Prince would be more reliable. Between the desire to make LaCroix pay, to wipe that smug smirk off his porcelain face and to free myself from his grasp for good and the irrational, sudden feeling in my gut that, for some twisted reason, I would actually miss it. Maybe it was some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, but now, faced with the opportunity of finally being able to choose for my destiny, I almost feared it. LaCroix had been the one fixed mark since my Embrace, and, no matter how loathed and enforced, his guidance over my life had been strangely reassuring. I could blame him for everything and avoid responsibilities: now only I would have been accounted for my actions.

"Maybe there's some Malkavian blood in me!" I chuckled aloud. Damn! Had all this feudal society nonsense finally taken its toll upon me?

"No, my Childe, only a true Ventrue would spend hours pondering over every possible outcome of a vital decision. Usually not in a cab, I will give you that," the driver teasingly drawled in that gravel voice.

I was so enthralled by my own problem, that his calling me his Childe did barely register. Later on, with a lucid mind, it would give me the chills and a deep sense of foreboding.

"Take me there!" I finally exclaimed, shaking my head in a vain attempt to clear it and pointing to a familiar place on the map.

"I should ask you if you are really sure, but I do not want us to meet our final death on a highway," he joked, making me feel like a fool.

"Yes, just… just drive me there before I change my mind…" I sighed, trying to shut off all thoughts for the brief time it took us to reach my destination.

The cab came to a stop and I paid the fare quickly, doing my best to still my trembling hand. When I entered that building, I had to be unreadable: I could not afford a breakdown.

"Remember: wherever we go it's the blood of Caine which makes our fate. Farewell, vampire!"

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**A/N: This is the first fanfiction I have ever written for this fandom. I know this chapter is very long and introspective, but I needed it to introduce my OC, her personality and how she acted throughout the events narrated in the game, without actually having to write about them in detail.**

**Being a train of thought, it is deliberately a bit chaotic. Moreover, as in reality, she may not be exactly sincere in analyzing herself, though she does not realize it.**

**Considering the way LaCroix behaves with the main character in Bloodlines and their psychological traits I just couldn't see them developing anything while the Ankaran Sarcophagus was still around and they were basically "Prince" and "Do-girl". The next chapters will be quite different, there will always be some introspection, but they will focus more on events, dialogues and interactions. The "romance" will be there eventually but it will build up really slowly, otherwise it wouldn't be plausible.**

**And, finally, a reassurance: the fact that the alleged Caine calls her "His Childe" only means that, as for all vampires, he sees her as his progeny. Her Sire is most definitely Lawrence, she is a normal Ventrue and in no way related to the Antediluvians or strange prophesies. She will not suddenly develop unknown powers of awesomeness or have the whole male populace of the game fall for her.**


	2. My Pledge of Allegiance

**Against All Odds**

**Chapter Two: My Pledge Of Allegiance**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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"Greetings, Neonate. I have heard of your recent… difficulties with LaCroix. I can't say that I am surprised. Love of power always leads to betrayal, but I am glad that you have survived."

"Thank you Max. I… In a moment like this, your warm welcome means a lot." It was not a lie: even if he most likely had further motives, I still had not expected this reception.

"Think nothing of it. Our humble Chantry is always open to the friends of our Clan, especially in their time of need."

"Or to the enemy of your enemy?" I lightly joked, eliciting an honest, rich laugh from the Regent. For some reason, he had always seemed to enjoy this kind of "candid" humour, and I gladly indulged him, since it allowed me to voice some of those thoughts that with everybody else I had to keep to myself. Had I tried it with LaCroix, I probably wouldn't have lived to tell.

"Oh, Irene, I stand by my initial assertion, which even now has not yet been disproved: you have done and will do well in this world!" he exclaimed, lowering his lenses, still chuckling.

"If having a blood-hunt on my neck, accused of being the most treacherous of traitors, is considered doing well, I am not sure I really want to know what failure is like," I retaliated, savouring this small moment of light-heartedness after all the drama.

"I might tell you, but I wouldn't want to risk spoiling you the surprise. As for the present impasse, I am sure it is but a temporary situation, since LaCroix's allegations are simply preposterous. As one of the Primogen, I can assure you that most of our Council has not bought his words and did not support this decision. But, as you know, the Prince has the final say on these matters."

"Indeed, I understand the Primogen's predicament and really appreciate your trust. As much as my word is worth, I assure you it is not misplaced. Although, to be perfectly honest, with my job as LaCroix's agent, I had not exactly expected to have gained many congeniality points among the Council."

"The Sins of the Guardian shall not fall on the Protégée. Or, to put it in words you might be more familiar with, you have proved yourself to be an asset, Neonate, and, now that you are on the market, there are quite a few backers who would like to invest in you."

"Present company included?"

"Present company included. Thus I am glad that you have decided to come to me tonight… and to the Camarilla, of course."

"Of course." We shared a smile and I knew I had taken the right decision. I liked this way of doing business, out in the open: a transaction, straight and simple.

"Then I must ask you if you are ready to pledge your allegiance to the Camarilla."

"My loyalty has always been with the Camarilla, Max, and it still is. I am here to prove it."

"Yes, yes, I know that, Irene, but I also am aware that you have been courted by other factions. Especially by the late Mr Rodriguez. Considering the way LaCroix has treated you, I had feared that you might decide to side with the Anarchs. It would have been… understandable."

His tone betrayed that he wouldn't really have been that understanding, but empathy was not the reason why I had come here.

"I am not going to lie to you. I liked Nines, he… I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for him. I am on good terms with the Anarchs, or used to be. Still, I do not mix personal feelings and business, and I know the Camarilla is necessary."

"Yes, I know what you mean, my sentiments exactly. As for Mr Rodriguez, he really had some kind of soft spot for you. You know, LaCroix used to be very concerned about this. He feared the two of you might be… emotionally involved."

"WHAT…? Really?" I asked, for once completely flabbergasted and unable to conceal it. Vampires and "love" rarely belonged in the same sentence (some ridiculously torrid paperback notwithstanding). Strauss chuckled, once again, sat down on a couch and motioned for me to do the same.

"Is the notion truly so ludicrous to you?"

"Well, I had been under the impression that certain… feelings… pertained exclusively to the human race and were… lost… after the Embrace. So I really cannot understand LaCroix's worry."

"Sometimes I forget that there are a lot of things you still ignore about our condition. Indeed, the affliction that Kine call love is quite rare a happening amidst Kindred. What we lack is the hormonal drive, the natural instinct for reproduction, since our primary lust and passion is devoted to human blood. But it is still quite possible to feel affection, to develop an emotional attachment, particularly for those of us more in touch with our humanity. In some cases, it even leads to a… physical ardour… akin to human desire. However, for reasons I am sure you can imagine, it is not very common. When it happens, though, it is typically an incredibly strong and resilient bond, since it usually originates from a deep and selfless care, not polluted by… a fleeting hormonal influence."

"Basically if for some humans it is lust that triggers a more or less genuine affection, for Kindred it is affection that sometimes triggers a more or less genuine passion?" I elaborated, as things started to make sense.

"That pretty much summarizes it, yes. Although there are some Kindred that liberally indulge in… proclivities… If I remember correctly, the late Doctor Grout theorized that it had something to do with emotional or sexual disorders carried over from before the Embrace. But it might simply be ascribed to a Perversion, as you know our Kind is not immune from those…" he trailed off, and I could detect a hint of embarrassment. Even if we were dissecting this topic with a scientific and dispassioned approach, I guessed that sex was still not the most common or comfortable of subjects.

"Yes, well, you have been more than exhaustive, thank you," I reassured him, making us both release a figurative breath. "And I understand LaCroix's apprehension now: if these bonds can really be so powerful, it could have posed quite some threat for him. Even if I still fail to see how he could think of me being 'in love' with Nines: I accused him of being at Grout's Mansion. Though unwittingly, I brought a blood-hunt upon his head. Even by Kindred's standards, I doubt this is a telltale sign of undying devotion."

"No, no it isn't," Strauss admitted, with another round of chuckles. "From what I gathered, our favourite Prince started to suspect something of the sort after Mr Rodriguez saved you from those Sabbat goons and grew more and more worried after you helped out the Anarchs – and me by the way – with that little plague-doomsday cult problem. I think he believed that Rodriguez was the most… besotted… one and that you might reciprocate, or use this connection to double cross him."

Sure, Nines had played the Guardian Angel role a few times, and back then he had nothing to gain from keeping me alive. I was too much of a wimp to be either useful or a threat. I still did not know the reason why he had acted that way, but I believed it was primarily a matter of him being a rather decent individual, who could empathise with someone thrown on the street with no knowledge whatsoever of what being a vampire entailed. Hadn't it been for Smiling Jack teaching me the basics, I wouldn't have survived my first week. Leave it to LaCroix to try and find some deep ulterior motive behind everything (ok I did that constantly myself, but he definitely surpassed me).

Well, if I really had to be honest, now that I thought about it, I had the slightest suspicion that behind Nines' kindness there might also have been a deliberate attempt to irk LaCroix. Anyone who had met the Prince knew how territorial he was with what he deemed as his possessions, and for all extents and purposes he had always considered me as such. I was sure that if he could, he would have gladly had me branded with his initials, just to reinforce the point.

"Well, yes, it is still completely unfounded, but I admit that it sort of makes sense… Might I ask who told you all this?"

"Gary, the Nosferatu Primogen, you have met, yes? Apparently LaCroix had some Nosferatu following Nines' movements… And yours. Then, as we now know, that Kuei-Jin Priestess posed as Mr Rodriguez and you reported him to the Prince. That laid his fears to rest… for a while."

"That… that… THAT… Oh, goodness, it was all a test!" I exclaimed, incredulous, with a sudden desire to choke LaCroix to death. Until I remembered that it was actually impossible.

"I beg your pardon? I am afraid I have lost you."

"Please, understand that I do not have definitive proof of what I am going to say. But both Ming Xiao and some Kuei-Jin I battled with claimed that there is an alliance between them and LaCroix, to get rid of the Anarchs."

"I beg your pardon?" Now it was his turn to be stunned, and he almost recoiled on his seat.

"Moreover, Ming Xiao revealed that it was LaCroix himself who instructed her to kill Grout and pose as Nines. Then he sent me to Grout's Mansion… He… He got rid of two dangerous opponents and tested my loyalty all at the same time. If her version is to be trusted of course."

I suddenly wondered what would have happened if I had kept my mouth shut about meeting 'Nines'. I had a sinking feeling that LaCroix had a back-up plan that involved incriminating the both of us for the Malkavian Primogen's death.

"This is… this is…" Strauss seemed to be at a loss for words. If he could, I am sure he would be sweating. I guessed he was torn between delight for having a reason to dethrone LaCroix and dread for the scandal that the Prince's misdeeds would bring on the Camarilla. As they say, be careful what you wish for: you just might get it.

"Then Nines went undercover in that park, as it is Werewolf territory and nobody in their sane mind would stay there. When Ming Xiao told me her side of the story, I made the very stupid mistake of confronting LaCroix about it. At first he denied her claims, then, he half admitted to it. In a blink of an eye, he turned the tables around and asked me to convince the Anarchs of the necessity of an alliance to get rid of the Kuei-Jin, since they were attempting to turn Kindred against each other."

"That sounds very much like Sebastian," he murmured, his head in his hands, still pondering.

"Indeed. Considering what you have told me tonight, maybe he suspected I knew of Nines' hideout or thought that he would come out in the open for me."

"Yes... yes…"

"Actually, without Damsel's help I never would have found him. When I did, we barely had time to talk and… we were surrounded by fire, ashes literally raining on us. He… he tried to convince me to flee, that it was dangerous. But I was stubborn, set on completing my mission and we lost time… Suddenly a Werewolf shot out on Nines and dragged him down the slope. Another one started hunting me and I… somehow I managed to crush him between some metal doors… I couldn't find any trace of Nines, though, he is most definitely…"

I shuddered, despite myself. The tears I had been holding for two days once again threatened to fall, but I closed my eyes and pushed them back. Strauss may not be an enemy, for now at least, but he wasn't a friend and I couldn't afford to let him see my weakness. Not that I had ever let my friends see me vulnerable, not even Samantha. I… I had always kept everything bottled up inside, afraid to give anybody some leverage to hurt me. An inheritance of my years as the class bookworm: I had learned the hard way that everything I said could be used against me and that the only way to get bullies off my back was to keep a low profile and pretend that their taunting did not faze me.

Funny how that life lesson had been crucial for my survival as a Kindred: in retrospective, I should have thanked them.

"Killing a Werewolf… it is an amazing accomplishment, Irene, especially for one so young… Brains over brawl…" he trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. "Yes, I think it is evident that someone set you and Mr Rodriguez up, and the most likely suspects are LaCroix and/or this Ming Xiao. If I may make an educated guess, I think LaCroix panicked and tried silencing you and Mr Rodriguez for good. But he underestimated you, and he is going to regret it, of that I am sure."

I noticed his purposeful avoidance of the subject of Nines' demise. He too was not apt with comfort or emotions, but I was fine with it, even grateful.

"I, myself, have reached the same conclusion. Well, nice of him to give us a romantic, heroic death, side by side…" I joked, exchanging a sad smirk. "Still, how did he explain my betrayal of my supposedly beloved one? Quite a quick change of route."

"From what I heard at the Council, he claims that you are a ruthless schemer, that you gained his trust and were like a Childe to him. That you betrayed him in the worst way possible, even if he saw you as his own flesh and blood. That you also seduced Nines and had him wrapped around your fingers and then you sold them both to the Kuei-Jin, to raise as the sole ruler of LA."

"Wow… I am almost flattered… I mean, he portrays me as quite the ultimate temptress. I can see why the Council had a hard time buying his words, since, despite popular belief, I can actually still see my reflection in the mirror."

We shared another heartfelt laugh, and I took no offense. I knew that even normally I wasn't exactly gorgeous and, after two days as a fugitive, I really must have looked terrible.

"According to Raoul, the Toreador Primogen, when he visited him at the Tower, LaCroix made the grand gesture of throwing a pair of golden cufflinks in the fire, vowing they were a present from you."

"He really has a flair for the melodramatic, hasn't he? I can assure you that the only Gift I have ever thought of giving him is in the German meaning of the word."

"Hmmm, yes, Arsenic perhaps? That would have been fitting for our Napoleon."

That drew out another chuckle, but it died shortly. We looked at each other and the atmosphere grew heavy and sombre with the awareness of what was going to come.

"You know what has to be done, don't you?"

"I am afraid I do."

"A Prince consorting with the Kuei-Jin is something of unprecedented gravity. The Beast takes many forms within us, and it seems that LaCroix has finally surrendered to its power."

"But we cannot be sure, that has to be said. It is extremely unlikely, but it really could be Xiao trying to turn us all against each other. We cannot allow that either."

"Indeed, therefore we must act swiftly and discreetly. It seems that the Tremere Clan must lead the Camarilla through this time of Darkness. But tread carefully, Irene, I fear that the night heralds something far more sinister than the petty machinations of a rogue Prince."

"What do you mean?"

"I do not know. This Sarcophagus seems to have unleashed a raging whirlwind, pulling all of those who surround it into this storm. I cannot see what secrets it holds, but be warned… a dark shadow falls across my mind. There are some powers best left undisturbed."

"Yes, I agree, I have a feeling that it is a Pandora's Box… By the way, I think Xiao has the key."

"Then our course is even clearer. First you must head to the Temple and dispose of this pseudo Priestess and her minions. After you have secured the Key, you must deal with LaCroix and his rabid dog."

"What… what will happen to him?"

"He will be subjected to the rules of the Camarilla."

"Are we talking about… an execution?"

I already knew the answer, what I couldn't fathom was why it should even bother me. But, nevertheless, it did.

"Yes, that is the most likely outcome. You sound… perturbed, Irene. You surely do realise that as long as LaCroix is in charge you will be considered a fugitive. Neither I nor the Council will be able to help you, if you are found. Moreover, considering his recent behaviour, the Prince is like a bomb threatening to explode: he must be removed."

"I know that, Max, and I am ready to do what needs to be done, for the Camarilla," I replied, half bowing. "I just… I just hope it does not backfire."

"What are you implying?" he asked, but was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Who is it?" he asked, and I could see that his hand inched under his jacket. I guessed that he kept some sort of weapon hidden there, although I was pretty sure that he had many other more efficient ways to get rid of opponents.

"It's me, sir!" said an unknown female voice.

"Ah, Alexandra, is there some urgent matter that requires my attention?" he asked, relaxing visibly and bringing his hand back into view.

"A brother from New York is here: he says he brings a message from his Regent," the woman explained, and I could detect a trace of uneasiness in her voice.

"Please, show him to the guest room, I will meet him shortly."

"Yes, sir," the voice replied, and I could hear heeled steps scurrying away.

"I apologise but I have to cut our meeting short, Irene. Sunrise is now approaching, so for today you are welcome to stay here in my study and rest. I will ward the door against intruders, and I recommend that you do not wander around, since it is of the utmost importance that nobody sees you. At dusk, you will head to Chinatown and then to Venture Tower, and finish this."

"I understand," I replied, although I felt a bit of apprehension at having to sleep in such unfamiliar territory. For all I knew, those wards might be designed to trap me there.

"I am going to retire upstairs now. May your steps be light, and may your path lead you to victory."

"Thank you, Max. I sincerely hope so."

As I watched him retreating and settled myself on the couch, I couldn't help but think about how even the current sleeping arrangement was a metaphor for the insurmountable distance that would always exist between us. But I could live with detachment: it was closeness I had always been uncomfortable with. I was the kind of person who could speak in front of an enormous audience for hours, but at the same time was terribly inept when dealing with those few people I truly cared about. A "problem" that had been solved for me with the Embrace, since there wasn't anyone left in my life who mattered that much to me.

At the end of the day, the only important thing was that I was still "alive" and had a chance to get out of this mess on my own two feet, even if it meant… Better him than me, I guessed, trying to get his unnerving face out of my mind. He was only getting his due, after all. Luckily, exhaustion finally took over and I sank into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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**A/N: ****A chapter of transition, but I think it was necessary. While I was playing the game, I remember being taken aback by how fast the meeting with the chosen side went (I think they were really running to deliver the game on time). I mean, you are accused of the worst crimes, you go to Strauss and you say "hey guy, you know the Prince is the one backstabbing all of us, not me". He doesn't even ask how or why, or what has happened and sends you off with two words. As much as he might despise the prince, before taking the responsibility of such a scandal, any person of sane mind would at least have asked for some detailed explanation. Ok he probably had guessed most of it, but still… So I decided to develop it a bit more. I took the occasion to poke some fun at our Jester prince's love for the theatrical, exploiting the Regent's peculiar sense of humour, that is quite apparent to anyone who has played a character with high persuasion skills.**

**A****nother reassurance: there won't be any side love interests or triangles involving the OC.**

**Finally, an enormous thank you to my two reviewers. I hope I won't let you down and I am glad you have decided to take this ride with me.**


	3. China Doll

**Chapter Three: ****China Doll**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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The night breeze hit me as I stepped out of the cab, mixed with that unique, spicy blend that spoke of exotic and mysterious rituals in the night (or, more realistically, of overpriced pseudo-oriental restaurants, designed to appeal to Western taste): I was back in Chinatown.

Carefully, I headed to the temple and slowly opened the giant wooden doors, crouching as soon as I was inside. Luckily the patrol didn't seem to have noticed me: I stealthily approached one of them and tried to Dominate him. It worked, and he fell into a trance. Just to be sure of my intuition, I got even nearer to his back and killed him before he could even waken from his stupor. As his body fell in the grass, I had the confirmation I needed: these were humans, not Kuei-Jin, to my relief. Thanks to Dominate this would be easier than I expected (although I quite envied those who could see auras, since they could avoid this painstaking process of examination).

Always crouched, I went deeper and deeper into Ming Xiao's lair, using the familiar tactic I had developed over these two years, with the exception that, if usually I tried to avoid killing if at all possible, this time I knew it was for the best to weaken the Kuei-Jin as much as I could. If an enemy was lonely I put him into a trance and then fed on him until he died; if there were two soldiers I put one into a trance, used Suicide on the other and then fed on or killed the first one. If there were more of them I would have to use Mass Suicide, but I tried to avoid that since it cost too much blood and I had to save my blood bags for the inevitable confrontation with Ming Xiao. Luckily the narrow corridors prevented this problem, and, with some blood-buffed lock-picking skills, I never had to confront more than two soldiers at the same time.

When I started encountering traps, I knew I was getting closer; luckily by staying crouched I had to proceed slowly, and so the first bamboo poles trap just went off a few inches before my face. After that, it was easy to spot the suspicious-looking tiles and avoid them.

The place was getting more and more like a maze, a thing I hated, but I used my rule of always taking my right, since, for some reason, it actually seemed to work most of the time. In fact, on my first visit to the Chantry I had found Strauss' office on the first try: the problem, ironically, had been getting out, which had irritated me to no end.

Besides ending up on a dead end a couple of times, the corridors finally got narrower and narrower and I had a good feeling I was on the right track. I was almost congratulating myself when the tapestry next to me was slashed open and a ninja-clad soldier jumped out: if I were still human I would have had a fatal heart failure. Well, truth to be told, if I were still human I wouldn't have been able to walk crouched for more than a few steps, let alone for hours, due to my weight and the fact that most of it was located on my… derrier, which had always made it very straining for the muscles of my legs to keep me in balance.

As a sad reminder of it, in my panic I landed straight on my butt, at the ninja's feet. He spotted me and readied his blade: luckily my survival instinct kicked in and my right foot connected violently with his nether regions. As he doubled over in pain, I didn't waste any seconds and used Suicide, praying that it would work. It did and he collapsed on top of me, motionless. Providentially, in his fit he had dropped his katana, which clanged at my side: it would have been mocking to end up being skewered by a cadaver.

I pushed his body off of me and sat up, taking his sword in my trembling hands and trying to regain my composure. This had been dangerously close, and I couldn't afford to find myself in the same situation again. I looked at the tapestry walls unwinding before me, and from experience I just knew there would be more ninjas hidden beneath them. What to do?

I couldn't see their auras, I couldn't hope for them to make any noise, I could try to smell their blood, but I wasn't a hound. Suddenly I had an idea, although it was a bit risky: the narrowness of the corridor was a disadvantage to me, yes, but what if I turned it to my favour? They could come from left or right, but they had to land next me one way or the other. I took my Tal'mahe'Ra Blade out from its sheath: crouching around while holding a sword wasn't usually the best of ideas, but in this case crouching around with two swords could be my salvation. I put them down on the ground, each one pointing at one of the walls, hilt to hilt. I used Bloodbuff to enhance my strength, and took one weapon in each hand, then brought my arms up to lean against my chest, in order to better support the weight. Each katana's tip grazed against the tapestry, but that actually helped my balance. I used Fortitude, to stay on the safe side, and started slowly moving forward, always crouched, keeping the blades on level with my shoulders. I could see a door not far from here, I was almost there.

Suddenly, a black form shot out from my right, and with a scream, impaled himself on my blade, as I was thrown to the left side and the other katana pierced the tapestry and the light, hollow wooden wall, eventually getting stuck in it. My muscles burned as I looked up at the ninja, who seemed to be staring at the weapon protruding from his abdomen, surprise etched as a mask on his face. I pushed him off the blade with the help of my now free hand and he collapsed on his back, finally dead.

The door was now only 10 feet away from me, the odds of another hidden ninja weren't very high, he would have probably come out to aid his comrade by now. So I sheathed my blade and made a dash for it, sighing with relief once I closed it behind me. I was in a big room with two pressure plates. I solved the puzzle and took the stairs, getting to yet another level.

Once I saw the statues being guarded by the soldier, I put two and two together with the pedestals in the central room and knew what needed to be done: surely Xiao had a strange flair for security systems.

I crouched to the first statue, trying to get nearer to the soldiers, in order to use Dominate, and suddenly there was a metallic sound and I felt a blade slicing the air, barely missing my head: had I been standing, I would surely have met my final death. The soldiers were alerted to my presence but couldn't get near, thanks to the blade, still one of them had a crossbow and started shooting in my direction. Luckily it missed, but it was not the time for finesse and I finally had to use Mass Suicide: fortunately I had fed on the lone soldiers in the previous corridors.

I went on and grabbed the statue, taking note of the shape of the pedestal, but the soldiers guarding the opposite statue started shooting at me. I stayed undercover and finally they stopped. I could hear them stepping towards me, and I got an idea. I poked my head out just slightly and saw they were approaching the corridor nearest to me. Evidently they knew how to avoid the trap, but hadn't taken into account that I now knew from experience how to set it off. I picked up a fallen crossbow and took cover behind the pedestal. They restarted shooting at me but, as they briefly had to pause to reload, I launched the crossbow, making it slide and tumble down the corridor. As I had hoped, its weight was enough and the trap went off again, beheading them before they even realized what hit them.

I got the other three statues, and this time I was able to use my standard Dominate routine. Finally I placed them on the central room's pedestal and a strange portal appeared before my eyes.

If this didn't scream "Ming Xiao is on the other side" I don't know what did. I consumed a regular blood pack to regain the lost blood, embraced my best friend the flamethrower (using it was a no-brainer, you pulled the trigger and aimed in the general direction, no particular ability or finesse was required and you dealt a ton of damage) and repeated like a Mantra in my head: Fortitude, Presence, Bloodbuff.

I stepped into the portal and was taken in front of the leader of the Kuei-Jin. She promised me an eternal torment and then literally showed me her true face. As I expected, it was not a pleasant one.

Even with the three disciplines running at the same time (thankfully I had been collecting some occult items, or I would have run out of blood very rapidly), I emptied the two gas cans and she was still standing and spawning copycats to boot, although she seemed weakened. I retreated and refilled my blood-pool, then I un-sheathed my blade and tried approaching her. I discovered almost instantly that it wasn't a good idea, since those tentacles didn't allow me to get very close and, even with all disciplines on, they dealt quite some damage.

I had always felt more at ease with bladed weapons than with guns, unlike most Neonates or Kindred born in the XX century. I knew I had to "thank" my father's passion for fencing (he had been some kind of champion at college), and the fact that he had practically forced me to take it up as a sport when I was eight, using a good amount of guilt-tripping. I was an only child, so my parents had projected everything upon me: they really loved me a lot, but maybe too much so and when we were still under the same roof sometimes it had been hard breathing or just saying no. Sadly, for my father's aspirations, I never was much of an athlete, my reflexes weren't exceptional and as I hit puberty my new body structure hadn't helped either. I was mediocre at best, and had been very relieved when I was finally allowed to drop out.

But at least I knew my way around a sword and how to handle it without hurting myself. I wasn't a pro by any means, but with Bloodbuff's help I could put on a decent fight. Moreover, so far I hadn't even had a real swordfight yet: I was mostly swinging at opponents using firearms or disciplines. Of course this meant that I couldn't do it often, and had to use my blade only against strong Kindred foes, when the Lethal and Aggravated Damage I could deal with it was worth the trouble and the consumption of blood packs.

In these two years I had tried to train myself by going to the shooting range regularly; sadly I was very uncomfortable with firearms and still almost flinched when having to shoot one. My aim had improved a bit, especially on unmoving targets but I was still very far from a sharpshooter. Combine that with the fact that bullets were mostly useful against Kine and that I could much more proficiently deal with them with Dominate, and you might imagine how I turned to gunfights as the last possible resource. But now I didn't have another choice.

Thankfully I had been saving money and had made Mercurio a richer ghoul before coming here. Time for my last resort: I stood at a good distance, took out my machine gun and just started shooting. I wasn't precise, I knew I missed a lot of hits, and was almost nauseous from the jerking caused by the recoil but I was aided by the fact that in this form Xiao was enormous, plus she had already taken a lot of damage and I had a great stash of ammo at my disposal.

I had to retreat and drink vitae some more times, but finally my patience paid off and the former Priestess collapsed in a gelatinous goo, her spawns disappearing with her.

My arms felt heavy with the effort and strangely detached, like they didn't belong to me anymore. Even after I stopped shooting, they still shook uncontrollably. It took me a strenuous effort to put away my machine gun, and I sat on the floor for a while, drinking some more vitae until my body calmed down. Since my mission at the Sabbat warehouse I had discovered that in a life-threatening situation, the adrenaline rush combined with some primal survival instinct allowed me to think fast and make decisions at the blink of an eye, which most of the time actually turned out to be pretty sound. Sadly, once the immediate danger was removed, it was like deflating a big balloon: I felt limp, emptied, and reverted back to my usual over-thinking self, who just couldn't take decisions based on gut feelings. Maybe it was the same mechanism that in College had allowed me to outdo myself during exams: under pressure I was able to solve exercises that in normal conditions I would probably have given up on.

Finally, I managed to regain my composure, grab the key of the Sarcophagus and leave.

There was simply no way I was going to be able to deal with LaCroix that night, although it would be for the best not giving him the time to know of Xiao's demise. Still, it was always better than meeting my final death or falling unconscious in the Tower at sunrise. I wasn't sure I could go back to Strauss for the day, and I needed to refill my stock of ammo and blood packs. Suddenly I remembered the words of that thin-blood clairvoyant: up until now they had proven to be true, although at the time I couldn't understand a thing. I had forgotten a lot of what she had said, but not her final warning: she had kept on screaming "don't open it" and now I had a fairly good idea of what it meant. This gave me the chills, but also a solution: I had asked her who could I trust and she had given me some vague descriptions, but now I could see she was indicating Beckett (who again had begged me not to open that Sarcophagus), and Mercurio.

Yes, I could trust Mercurio, he was loyal to the Camarilla, not to LaCroix and I was going to have to head there anyway. I took the usual cab and made a brief stop at the blood bank, then I sneaked into the ghoul's house.

"Whoa, whoa, Irene, you look like shit!" Mercurio said, opening the door and letting me in.

"Thanks, Mercurio, you always know how to talk to a lady…" I replied with a smirk, eyeing around the room to reassure myself we were alone.

"You're welcome!" he smiled back with a wink. "And don't worry, you are safe here. Or at least… less in danger than in most places."

"I know, I know… Listen, I need some more ammo and…"

"More ammo? It must've been one helluva a fight: you usually take weeks to run out of those, not two nights!"

He was right, I mostly used the weapons I found in loco, that's how I had saved so much money in the first place.

"I am not completely out, I just need two gas cans for the flamethrower and some magazines for the machine gun."

"Just?" he asked chuckling and I smiled back. He retreated to his bedroom, emerging shortly after with my purchases and I handed him the cash.

"Listen, Mercurio, I know it's a lot to ask, but could I sleep here for today?" After all, the Sheriff or his Kindred minions would be fast asleep too, and I was sure Mercurio could keep most Kine and ghouls at bay. Especially on his territory.

"Well, sure, pal, I owe you, after all. You watched my back, I'll watch yours!" he exclaimed, and gestured for me to follow him. We entered his bedroom, and he headed towards the closet. He dipped his arm in, touched a precise spot behind some jackets and I heard a click. A wall-mirror moved to reveal an alcove, quite narrow but as long as the room: evidently he had installed a fake wall. Here there were a mattress and some canned food, bottled water and ammos: a small bunker.

"A lesson from the East Coast," he explained with a smile and I couldn't help but wonder if he had taken into consideration the fact that Kindred had disciplines like Auspex. Still, it would be more than enough to hide me from Kine and ghouls.

"Thanks, Mercurio, I will repay you for all your kindness."

I was really touched that he trusted me with his secret refuge, or maybe he just had more than one.

"Just remember your old pal, when you climb to the top," he said with a wink.

"Yes, sure. I'll send your regards to LaCroix," I smirked.

"Ya know what I mean."

"Right now I am in such a big of a dump – figuratively speaking, of course – that I would be more than happy just to get back to ground level."

"Troubles seem to like you, Irene, but since I've met you, this fucking old cantankerous lady of a city just hasn't been the same. I can tell ya, you just can't be run of the mill: you may get to the top or come crashing down to the ground, but you're bound to put on a great show!" he laughed.

"Well, that's very comforting, thank you," I sighed, settling myself on the makeshift bed: at least it was clean, unlike in that hole above the pawnshop LaCroix had so generously provided for me before he decided I was worthy of a real apartment. "I'll get my beauty sleep now…" I joked.

"Then, I'll call you at sunset… Sweet dreams!" He closed me in the bunker and I could hear him singing the Eurythmics' trademark tune. I hadn't listened to it since my Embrace, and, now that I did, I decided it could have been some sort of Anthem for the Kindred way of life. Still, Mercurio's vocals were excruciating and it was a testament to my tiredness that even such cacophonic noise lulled me into slumber, way before sunrise.

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**A/N: Actually this should have been only a part of the chapter, but it got too long, so I decided it would be wiser to cut it here. The good news ****(hopefully) is that the next chapter is practically complete, I just need to find a suitable end and proofread it some more times. I suck at writing action scenes, I know… I like the plotting and politics best, but I couldn't avoid them, since they allowed me to show how Irene deals with danger and has managed to survive this far.**

**A big thank you to the reviewers: you really give me an incredible motivation! Hope this chapter does not disappoint you.**

**Olivia – You always ask great questions, the problem is that replying to them would be spoiling too much, one way or the other…**

**A special thank you to Loving Companion Cube for sharing her incredible knowledge of the World of Darkness and for all the support (not to mention "da lulz").**


	4. Bittersweet

**Chapter Four: Bittersweet**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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"Erm… hi, crumb cake… Nothing personal, you know, but Mr LaCroix has told me I can't buzz you up… Actually… it's embarrassing, but the orders are that I should detain you if you showed up…" Chunk babbled, clearly nervous and mortified, his chubby hands flailing around.

I didn't have time to try and persuade him, but I really didn't want to have to hurt him. True, his attempts at flirting and his delusion that I was his girlfriend had caused me quite some awkward moments. The peak had been reached when LaCroix, after an assignment, had snidely commented about letting me off the hook at an earlier time, so that I could enjoy breakfast with my – and on those words his disgusted tone and expression will stay etched in my mind forever – "security stud muffin". I had laughed it off and we had actually cracked some sarcastic jokes on the poor oblivious security guard, but inside I was wondering if Chunk had had the insane idea of asking LaCroix for such a thing (and considering how much he feared the boss, that was a terribly bad sign), or if the Prince had been overhearing some of our conversations, maybe via intercom.

Still, I liked Chunk: he was like an overgrown child, even his face spoke of an innocence so rare in the world that surrounded me. And although I knew things would never be the same again, no matter how the night ended, I at least wanted to preserve him from this madness.

"Run out and go home," I ordered slowly, easily Dominating him. He put his hands over his head and, with a clumsy sprint, disappeared out of the door.

I got behind his desk and pushed the button to call the elevator. Then I crouched and slowly took the few steps to the higher platform. I spotted three guards in full assault gear waiting for me. As soon as the elevator clanged, I crouched inside as fast as I could, and pushed the button before they had the time to notice me.

Abruptly my ride came to an halt, and I forced the door open, to find myself stuck between two floors. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy, surely LaCroix knew I was in the building from the moment I stepped in. Luckily, there was enough space for me to crawl out, and I landed on an unknown floor.

From there I started my climb, encountering many human guards which I mostly avoided or dealt with in my customary way. I reached a cafeteria of some sort and, as I crouched under an enormous skylight, I could spot the silhouettes of a team in SWAT gear waiting for me on top. Luckily they seemed oblivious to my presence. I climbed the stairs to the roof and sneaked behind them, while they were still busy inspecting the room downstairs. I found a duct of some sort, probably left by the renovation team, and climbed up.

I made my way through rooms filled with wood and plastic barriers. I was just thinking that I was having an easier time than at the temple, when LaCroix's voice made me jump out of my skin.

"I anticipated you'd make it this far… I had no doubts about your capability. But I am not so easily betrayed. Did you ever think about what it takes to live as long as I have? To come this far? Consider that lack of judgement in your last few seconds."

I followed the voice and realized that it was not actually the Prince (as if he would soil his tailor-made suit), but a poor soldier he had possessed. To think that he could do that through dozens of floors, while I had to practically make eye contact with my target for it to work, reminded me that, indeed, he possessed powers I could only dream about. But I had never forgotten about it, ironically he had, losing himself in chasing down a Chimera.

"No last words? No charming mottos or promises of revenge?" he sneered, surprised by my silence.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but timed bombs tend to detract from my eloquence," I replied, eyeing the kamikaze belt strapped around the waist of "LaCroix" and readying myself for the fight.

"Very well, then… à bientôt!" He mockingly saluted me with a flourished half-bow.

"Help!" the strangled voice of the soldier reached my ears, and I pitied him even as rounds flew in my direction. I dived behind a wooden scaffolding and knew I had to think and act fast. I couldn't interfere with LaCroix's Domination, I couldn't risk hitting the bomb, so swordplay was out of question. I suddenly cursed my bad aim.

There was only one way, although it would not be pleasant. I took out my gun, used Fortitude and blood-buffed my stamina for good measure and, as soon as he started reloading his rifle, I ran to him. As he saw me he stopped reloading, backed away and fired some rounds straight at my stomach, but thanks to my bodysuit and disciplines I was able to endure and get close enough to trap him in a corner. I'll never forget that man's pleading eyes, and the contrast with LaCroix's devilish grin, as I shot him in the head, putting an end to his misery.

I quickly grabbed the corpse, not wanting it to fall to the ground, lest it set the explosive off, and, eyeing the elevator, I had an idea. I could hear the bomb ticking, and I knew I didn't have much time. I reactivated Bloodbuff to enhance my strength and dragged the soldier's corpse to the elevator, sending it up.

I ran back to a previous room and covered my eardrums as I waited for the inevitable explosion. It came, accompanied by terrible screams. I collapsed on the ground in relief and drank some blood to speed up the healing process and replenish my pool.

When I felt ready, I called the elevator back down and rode it up, walking between the corpses of the soldiers who had been waiting to ambush me. I found another elevator and, as soon as the doors opened, from the opulent style of the room, I knew I was close to LaCroix. The lights were too bright for my tastes, so I found a switch and dimmed them a bit. I crouched up some stairs, and I could see a fellow Ventrue looking out from the window of a nearby office. I kept down and flush to the full marble balustrade, that created a blind-spot that protected me from the Kindred's field of vision.

I opened the door and entered the office to the right, which was a control room of some sort. I accessed the computer menu and with relief saw that there was an option to turn down the lights. I wasn't a great hacker, but thanks to Naoko, my roommate at the MIT, who was a real pro and talked about her passion endlessly, I had learnt the ABCs. Then, mostly with Mitnick's guidance, I had really improved a lot. I hoped it would be enough.

But of course it wasn't: this was Venture Tower after all! I groaned and counted the letters that formed the password, trying to find some fitting word. Maybe something Napoleon-related? It was too long, maybe more than one word? I was getting desperate when something briefly vibrated against my skin: my cell phone, I had forgotten about it! I took it out and there was a SMS from Mitnick himself. It read: _don't forget to hitthelights!_ I almost laughed, typed in _hitthelights_ and I was enshrouded in darkness. I hadn't time to ponder over how Mitnick knew where I was, but I guessed that even Venture tower was not immune from the Nosferatu's webcam network. I knew I would have to repay him somehow at a later time, but right now my only goal was to survive the night.

I had to move before someone came to check the room. I exited and heard heeled steps: a female Ventrue. She asked if someone was there (as if anyone would reply) and I tried to stay perfectly still. Finally, she moved on her patrol and I quietly sneaked behind her. I could have stealth-killed her, but I didn't think that eliminating most of my local Clan would be a smart move. True, some of them in my position would have probably tried to get rid of as many potential "rivals" as possible, while they had a good excuse for it, but now I was more worried with keeping most of the Primogen on my side, and since I didn't know the complex web of alliances and rivalries between the Clans (some I could guess, yes, but still…) I thought it wiser to keep the status quo. The emergency red lights helped in giving me some sense of my bearings and I moved forward, avoiding the few Ventrue patrollers and reaching some double door. I slowly opened them and I could see a meeting room, with an overlong glass table stretching in the middle. Here the lights were still on, although they were not very bright. Two male Ventrues were standing next to an open elevator, and started calling out, one of them moving towards the door. I moved along the opposite side of the table and approached the standing guard, using Fortitude. I knew he was bound to see me soon, but I was almost there.

As he spotted me and raised his rifle, I literally dived into the elevator, and mashed the button. He tried to turn around and grab at me, but was too slow due to the big weapon in his hands and the door closed as I could hear several rounds being fired at it. Fortunately the elevator moved up and opened on a familiar French style room: I was in the Penthouse. I readied myself for the fight to come. Using the flamethrower here would be madness: we were in a terribly flammable environment and I didn't want to be trapped in a blazing fire at the top floor of the tallest skyscraper in LA. Therefore I took out my Blade.

I opened the next door and my hand tightened around the hilt as I saw the Sheriff on the gallery. He stared at me impassively, as usual, and came charging down the stairs. I activated Fortitude, Presence and Bloodbuff, and managed to block his first swing, his giant sword clashing against mine. Then, he vanished in thin air and I panicked and started looking around. I saw him coming at the last moment, just in time to avoid being skewered. Still, he grazed my side and I could feel the burning and the blood sweeping out, but thanks to my disciplines, I could soak the damage. I managed to stab him and noticed that he too wasn't really into swordplay, he just slashed around with that enormous sword, although the mere fact that he could lift it as if it were paper was a feat in itself.

Again he disappeared, and I turned around immediately, spotting him as he reappeared. This time I avoided him easily and was able to deal a couple of blows. When he tried the same disappearing move again I sighed with relief: fortunately he was all brute force and no brains, how could he hope for the same move to work all the time? The fight was a matter of patience and of rinse and repeat, besides the fact that sometimes I retreated a bit to drink some blood or reactivate my disciplines.

After what felt like an eternity, he seemed to falter, but my joy was cut short as, with a piercing shriek, he turned into a giant bat creature. I watched in horror as his clawed feet grabbed at me, and together we crashed out of the huge window. For a moment I expected him to drop me, from this height the fall would have most certainly killed me. I desperately tried to hold on to his legs, but to no avail and finally he let me go. I screamed but I landed on the rooftop, a bit worse for the wear, but nonetheless alive. I could feel the Sheriff flying on top of me, and, as I stood up, I saw he was spawning a few minions. I quickly reactivated my disciplines and took out my flamethrower: here there was no risk in using it and besides, my sword was still in the Penthouse antechamber.

The only problem was that the blasted bat was out of reach, or so I thought, since he dived at me, clawing my arm before getting up again. Now blood was really flowing profusely out of my torn coat: claws were bad news, even with Fortitude I could only soak aggravated damage to some extent. I couldn't hope to fight him like this: he moved too fast and I cursed my bad aim for the umpteenth time in two nights. If I didn't think of something, and fast, I was doomed.

In my panic I almost bumped into a giant spotlight, and, as images from Batman ran through my mind (when your life is threatened you really make the craziest mental associations), I remembered that bats were very sensitive to the light and I wondered if the Sheriff was an exception. I hurriedly turned it on and a flash of light pierced the night sky. I nearly burst into a nervous laughter, because as it hit the Sheriff, a very nice replica of the "Bat-signal" could be seen. The giant mammal screeched and, blinded, plummeted only a few feet away from me. Without further ado, I unloaded my flamethrower upon him, and as the nauseating smell of burnt flesh filled my nostrils, his shrieks grew deafening, as he desperately tried to fly up in the air, only to come tumbling down again after raising only for a few feet. I ignored the other minions trying to hit me and concentrated on him: I could see he was getting weaker and weaker, his struggle progressively becoming more futile, his laments dying down until, with a last shuddering cry, he was no more.

His spawns too turned to ashes, soon to be dispersed by the warm wind. My legs gave out and I sat on the concrete floor, unable to believe I was still "alive". I healed myself as I admired the starry sky, trying to inhale some air: right now I wouldn't be able to talk. Still I knew it was far from over: there was the Prince to deal with, and that prospective was far more frightening than all the Xiaos and the Sheriffs of this world.

Before I could change my mind, I got up and dragged myself down the emergency staircase and back into the Penthouse, where my sword still laid, forgotten. I picked it up, sheathed it and, steadying myself with a few pointless but nonetheless calming breaths, I opened the massive doors to his "throne room".

I do not know what I had expected, but certainly not to find him staring out from his window, turning to look at me with the same calm expression he had when I reported back from a successful mission. His hands, though, betrayed him and I could see they were slightly twitching. For some reason, hands are the most revealing part of our body: even the best at concealing body language have a hard time controlling them, whereas with some training, it is not very difficult to put on an impassable face.

I carefully approached him, and he finally moved from the window, but still remained upon the platform that raised the desk area up about a step. Some internal part of me smirked: even at a moment like this his subconscious couldn't accept that I was as tall, if not taller than him.

"Like Sire, like Childe: I should have killed you that night." He struck a theatrical pose, pinching the bridge of his nose. His mentioning of Lawrence, although it may have been a part of the act, once again caused a tidal wave of unanswered questions to rise up in my chest: but I couldn't let it engulf me, not now.

"How could someone as low as you injure me? You think you've taken everything away, but I still have my Sarcophagus!" he proudly declared, raising his arms.

"Your Sarcophagus? You really still cannot see that it is your obsession with that artefact that brought us to this point? That it clouded your judgement and weakened you so much that even an infant like me was able to get so close to harming you?" I asked, and I didn't even know why I bothered: it was his problem, after all, not mine. But I knew this was the end, one way or the other, probably our last conversation and it felt strangely cathartic for once being able to tell him what I thought, without having to hide everything behind a deep coating of flattering.

"How dare you! How dare you speak up in my presence! You… you worthless maggot!" he spat out, clearly furious, balling his fists so hard to drive out the knuckles.

"Maybe so, but if I am, then what does that say about your Sheriff and your security guards?" I asked, and I could see that I had struck a chord. "Once, you told me you had had enough of sycophants and needed adjutants you could trust. But that's impossible: you don't want to hear the truth, only blind adoration! A hundred times I wanted to warn you that you were on a downward spiral, losing allies and making new enemies everyday, but I couldn't, since I valued my neck. The one time I was open with you, you planned my murder and, when it failed, tried to use me as a scapegoat… What did you expect? That I'd come waltzing back here like a good puppy dog as if nothing had ever happened? You… you have brought this upon yourself, _my liege:_ you are no Caesar and I am not Brutus. I take no pleasure in having to play this role, but you didn't leave me a choice."

I felt spent, strangely empty, as if a very heavy weight had been lifted from my chest. I knew it was pointless, but I needed closure. LaCroix stopped abusing his fists and, for a split second, he seemed stunned and looked at me in a different way, as if he were seeing me for the first time, or I had just grown two heads. But it was a fleeting moment, so I might have imagined it all. Then, he was again unreadable.

Suddenly, there was a ripping sound and my overloaded bag split open, the heavy key protruding and threatening to fall. I caught it just in time, but LaCroix's eyes turned predatory and I knew I was in deep trouble: he had probably spent so much time studying the slot of that bloody Sarcophagus, that he would have recognised its key between a hundred of specimen.

"You have the key? You have brought me the key?" The hysteric undertone of his voice sent my internal alarms off on full red emergency and I recoiled, almost hugging the cylinder by reflex.

"You've done all the work for me, once again! So much to learn… I thought I had lost it all, but no, here you've sailed on a Gehenna wind, bearing my salvation – the key to my future."

His glazed eyes and twisted smile reminded me of the Joker, and, even in my panic, I started to wonder why for the second time in less than an hour, a Batman parallel had sprung to my mind.

"Give me the key!" he spelled out slowly, and I bit my tongue, seeing what he was trying to do, but relief flooded me once I felt no magnetic pull.

"I am sorry, but I won't," I replied, and I could see he was startled. Truth to be told, I was too. He had never tried to Dominate me before, but I hadn't expected to be able to resist it.

"I said: GIVE ME THE KEY!" he repeated, his tone getting desperate.

"Don't waste your time trying to Dominate me," I deadpanned, feigning a confidence I didn't feel.

I expected him to fight for it, or to at least try to tear the key from my grasp and make a run for the Sarcophagus, but I watched in horror as the very embodiment of haughtiness and egotism sank down at my feet, kneeling and begging like a small child just denied of a toy.

"The key! I need the key! Don't you understand? This city needs a leader! The Kuei-Jin will kill us all. With the power that's inside that Sarcophagus I can protect this city! GIVE IT TO ME!"

I couldn't believe my eyes: it felt like when, growing up, you realize that your parents are not the invincible figures you thought them to be. That they are fragile and will eventually perish, like everything in this world. The king was naked, and, for the second time in my existence, it was time for me to grow up. It was a bittersweet feeling.

"Don't make me lose the last ounce of respect I have for you," I hissed, although that wasn't really true. A part of me knew that Ventrues weren't romantic heroes, who relished in a honourable death: our first concern was saving our hides, and if there was a good possibility of doing so, we took it. I wondered if this wasn't a last desperate attempt to fool me, to exploit my still-strong humanity, and if he would have acted the same in front of Xiao, or Strauss.

I had my answer as the Regent appeared, seated in LaCroix's chair, and maybe it was a symbol of things to come. The Prince immediately stopped the hysterics and tried to stand up: I could see he would rather have died than given the Regent the satisfaction of seeing him pleading.

Of course, he knew it was pointless with Strauss, au contraire he evidently still thought of me as naïve and goodhearted.

"Well done, Irene… Your powers are considerable for one so young. You will be a great asset in the years to come, and the Sarcophagus will reside safely in the hands of the Camarilla. I told you before that there are some powers in the world best left undisturbed. I don't know what lies in the Sarcophagus, and I believe that it may be in our best interests not to find out. If these be the final nights of our existence, I do not rush to bring about Gehenna any sooner than it need come. Let the shadows of time cover this dark treasure, so that it eventually fades even from our memories. Some things are best forgotten, Irene. Some things are best forgotten."

"I couldn't agree more, Max… And I thank you for the vote of confidence."

And it wasn't an attempt at flattering, for once I truly meant it: the Regent was a wise man, who could think about the long-term consequences of his choices. Maybe it was his age, maybe his natural disposition, but he was the natural counterbalance to LaCroix and the one man who could get LA's Camarilla out of the mess his rule had created. Although I had a feeling that he was the kind of person who preferred giving guidelines from the shadow, instead of having the spotlight (and the consequent burdens) on himself. I couldn't say I fully trusted him, but I was once again reassured that I had made the best choice possible.

I was taken out of my reverie as two Kindred, armed with crossbows, approached LaCroix, and taking him by the arms, started bringing him out. Looking at the fallen Prince, head bowed and spirit broken, I felt no glee, no fulfilment at having avenged myself. I didn't regret what I had done: the Prince had to be removed, and not only for my sake. Still, I simply did not wish for him to die, and, more importantly, I didn't want to be responsible for it. Maybe it was because I had been raised in an environment where the death penalty was a foreign concept: my parents had taught me that "Nobody should touch Caine", and that we hadn't the right to take a life for a life. Considering my current lifestyle it sounded cruelly ironic, but still I felt there was a big difference between killing someone in self-defence, during combat, and actually planning and executing someone's death as a ceremony, inviting all the people to come and see to set an example.

I guessed I couldn't have it all, could I? This was the way it went in Kindred Society, I would just have to get used to it, and in time this irrational feeling of guilt would fade away. Still, even in my short life, I had learned that most things just didn't seem to want to be forgotten. As icy grey eyes met mine, I had the uncanny sensation that this wasn't going to be an exception.

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**A/N: And so finally we are at the end of the events of the game, and we can move past them. LaCroix in this chapter is not exactly in top condition, but, never fear, it won't be forever.**

**As always thank you to my reviewers, old and new, for all the encouragement and the motivation.**

**Olivia – I haven't given a description of her yet because I think that the great advantage about reading a story, compared to other media, is the possibility of imagining certain things instead of them being imposed. Still, of course I have a definite image of Irene in my mind, and later on I will have to give out certain details, for plot necessity. What I can say is that on some things you are quite close, if not correct… About the clothing: I don't know how you would define a sharp dresser, but Irene in my mind is the kind of person of a classical, "elegant" taste, due also to her upbringing, who chooses clothes that emphasize her strong points and conceal her imperfections, instead than just following the latest trends. Moreover she dresses accordingly to what she has to do, so you won't find her fighting in high heels and a skirt if she can help it, and she generally isn't terribly preoccupied about clothing or shopping, although she knows and follows the dress code if a situation requires it. I hope this makes sense.**

**And yes, there will most definitely be minor characters from the game, and also new ones created by myself, when the plot will require it.**


	5. Wuthering Eyes

**Chapter Five: ****Wuthering Eyes **

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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"Right at the next intersection."

I followed the GPS navigator's instructions, inwardly cursing LA's streets which were a bedlam 24/7. I managed to carry the inconspicuous Ford that Strauss had asked me to drive through the Downtown traffic, gradually reaching less and less hectic streets, until I left the city completely.

Finally, after some miles on little secondary roads, the metallic voice made me stop the car near a cliff by the Ocean. It was just me and the key of the Ankaran Sarcophagus. Or better, me, the key and LaCroix's accusing eyes: they seemed to be following me everywhere I looked and for once I cursed my humanity. Turning into a remorseless monster was bad, but having so many scruples wasn't very convenient either. _In medio stat virtus_, I guessed.

I stepped out of the Ford and headed to the top of the cliff, the strong wind buzzing in my ears and lashing my tired face. I hoped it would at least help in clearing my head.

I looked down at the black, tumultuous water, crashing in foam upon razor-sharp rocks. This was one of the locations of the nearby coast where the current was fiercest; I remembered reading of quite a few suicides and many more incidents occurring in this area.

I gathered my strength and threw the key as far as I could. For a few seconds the metal cylinder shone, reflecting the moonlight, and then there was a clang and a splash, as it disappeared from view.

"Not a moment of hesitation… Not many Kindred would have so easily given up on that key, Irene. I am glad your former mentor's greed hasn't touched you."

I almost jumped and, as I turned, there stood the Regent, red mantel billowing as if it had a life of its own, his eyes focused on my face. So this was a test, well, fair enough, I guessed: he had a right to be prudent. But at the same time I knew it was a double-edged sign of trust: I was the only one besides him to know of where the key had been disposed of, with all of its implications, good and (mostly) bad.

"Thank you, but I am not a Saint. First of all I do not believe that Sarcophagus contains anything even potentially advantageous, and, besides, I think that relying on material objects is very dangerous. The only real power is the one that we cultivate each day and that comes from within, since it cannot perish or be taken away."

"It is ironic that LaCroix could not comprehend this essential truth in two hundred years, and someone with a tenth of his age can. We are quite akin in many aspects, Irene, much more so than it would appear at first glance. A part of me regrets not having you as a Childe, but perhaps it will be for the best…" he trailed off, and I couldn't help but wonder what he had in store for me.

His praise made me strangely nervous: on one hand it seemed sincere (I too had to admit that we seemed to see eye to eye on most matters), on the other, flattery had always made my internal alarms rise up, particularly since I had become a Kindred and most especially when it came from an Elder.

Without words, he started walking towards the car, and I trailed behind him. We got in and I was about to start the engine when he spoke up again.

"Tomorrow night, two hours after sunset, the Primogen will meet to discuss the fate of LaCroix and reach a common position before calling the Conclave. Your presence will be required, considering the role you have played in the last few nights. Tonight's raid at the tower and the dethronement of the Prince is considered classified information, not to be divulged until the Conclave is called. Only a select few Kindred besides the Primogen know the truth of what has happened, and it is essential that it remains this way."

"I understand and I assure you that you can count on my discretion."

The Primogen were clearly afraid of the upcoming scandal, and I couldn't blame them. Once LaCroix was brought to trial and his misdeeds proclaimed before the whole Kindred populace, the consequences could be disastrous and threaten the very existence of the Camarilla in the city. This execution may bring much more troubles than it could solve and, suddenly, I had an illumination: maybe there was still a way for me to "have it all" and with the blessing of the Primogen, no less. But there might be long-term side effects, especially for me, and I had to think about it very carefully, before even trying to suggest it.

On the other hand, I knew I didn't have much time: the one person that might actually listen to me and consider my words was the Regent, and, after this trip was over, I may not have another chance to talk to him before the meeting. The only other Primogen I knew, Gary Golden, was shiftiness incarnated and relying on him would be insanity. And, although I had never been invited to a Council of the Primogen, it did not take a rocket scientist to anticipate that they would see me as little more than a bumbling two year old. If I attempted to propose anything to them directly, it might either amuse them as a childish joke, in the most optimistic of hypothesis, or be taken as an intolerable offence, to be punished severely. Besides, if I circumvented Strauss, he might take it personally, and right now I could not afford to alienate him.

"You are pensive, and perturbed, like the other night in my Chantry, before we were interrupted. If there is anything on your mind, I pray you to share it. Unlike your former mentor, I appreciate your acumen, and I do not seek external reassurances of my grandeur, but an honest opinion."

So he had been eavesdropping on my outburst before revealing his presence in the Penthouse, not that it surprised me… The way he said "grandeur" almost made me laugh: he really couldn't resist throwing jibes at the younger Frenchman. Nevertheless, being more open than I used to be with LaCroix was something I could agree with (and not much of an effort), while being completely honest was another: in the Kindred world, it mostly meant suicide, and I did not feel that Strauss was an exception. Still, he had given me a great opening: would I take it?

"I was simply pondering over the Primogen's predicament… If LaCroix undergoes a trial and is sentenced for treason, it may either set an example and prove that the Camarilla does not condone corruption, or it may undermine us, leading Kindred to believe that the organisation is crooked to the core and unworthy of salvage. It could be an enormous scandal: the Camarilla comes back in California after decades and the very first Prince turns out to be maddened by lust for power and cavorting with the Kuei-Jin. It would seem as if we have backed Xiao and her troops from day one, helping them run amok over LA so that we could reinstall ourselves in the city. This is what I meant the other night, when I said I was afraid that it would backfire. If we hadn't deposed the Prince, we would have been doomed because of his recklessness, but even after he is gone, we might still be ruined, it's a lose-lose situation."

"I wish I could disprove your line of reasoning, but, alas, I cannot. Indeed, we are treading on very thin ice: one false move and we are all bound to sink. If in your pondering you have come across a potential solution, I would like to hear it. Any suggestion at this point could be vital."

"Well, it is only something that had occurred to me a few minutes ago. But I haven't had time to really think it through, so I would rather wait and consider every possible consequence before embarrassing myself," I replied, cursing my eternal indecision, but it wasn't far from the truth and I hoped it was something he could relate with. Besides, better to stay on the humble side, with people like the Regent it usually paid off.

"Prudence is commendable, but in this particular occasion time is of the essence. So, I invite you to elucidate your idea, and let me play the devil's advocate. According to LaCroix, I am very apt at covering this role," he smiled and I chuckled. I could imagine the infinite power-struggle between them at Councils, like a game of chess between pros: it must have been quite an entertaining sight.

"Very well…" I took a calming breath and prepared myself for my speech: I had to use all of my persuasion, it was now or never. "My proposal is this: let him retrace the steps of his beloved Napoleon. Let's send him to his own Saint Helena, after he 'voluntarily' resigns from his position. People will talk, sure, but, with Xiao and her minions gone, they will have no proof and it will be considerably quieter, since there will not be a trial and the subsequent declamation of his sins."

There, it was out in the open. I spied the Regent's expression and, from what little I knew of him, it looked like he was seriously considering the possibility. But I could sense it wouldn't be that easy.

"How could we justify a Prince willingly giving up his throne?"

"That is the part I have the most doubts about, I know that it is extremely unlikely, to use an euphemism. First of all, if we really cannot find a sound excuse, as far as I know there is not a rule that forces us to disclose a motivation, we could just claim it is a strictly personal reason, following some grave events. Surely rumours would abound, but as long as nobody has definite proof, simple allegations cannot damage us, since the Camarilla has been surrounded by terrible legends for centuries, and yet it still stands. Besides, most people will be quite pleased with LaCroix's departure, and therefore won't ask many questions. If an excuse must be produced, the closest to the truth would be claiming he was severely damaged, either physically or psychically by the last events, the demands of the different factions and the battle with the Kuei-Jin, and that he prefers to retire, since he feels he is not anymore up to the task. We could exploit Xiao and the Sheriff's demise, as if a big battle involving the Prince took place, and him and I got out by a scratch, but he has been shaken to the core and is unable to continue performing his duty. Something of that sort…"

I held my breath: I wasn't very confident about this point, but the Regent merely continued his musings, without apparent reaction.

"What if LaCroix refuses to comply? Or if he tries to come back?" he finally asked, and I was reassured it wasn't over yet.

"It is that or death, right? If he is not completely insane, and has a modicum of good sense and survival instinct left, he will choose Saint Helena and try to avoid fulfilling Napoleon's destiny to the end. If he tries to come back undercover, first of all I think that he will not have a very warm welcome: once he is not the Prince anymore, I honestly doubt he will have any genuine supporters left. As an insurance measure, we could force him to give a full confession, to be recorded and stored by you personally, Regent, in a safe location, so that it cannot be exploited by your enemies, but it may be brought to light if LaCroix tries to claim back power, in order to completely burn his reputation on a global scale. I know that this second option would mean the possibility of just postponing the scandal, and that LaCroix will know it, but in the meantime a lot things can change. Now that the Kuei-Jin and the Sabbat have been almost wiped out, and with Nines gone, if the new Prince is up to the task, in a few years the Camarilla may gain strong credibility and represent the only sound option for the Kindred of this city. After all, it is just a matter of them getting used to the idea: having met the Anarch Barons, it's not as if they gave much more freedom to their subordinates, in practice it is more of a nominative thing than a real tangible difference, revolutionary claims notwithstanding."

Silence enveloped the small compartment, so thick it could almost be touched. The Regent was deeply absorbed, almost in a trance, and apprehension started creeping up my spine.

"You are more adroit with politics than I expected, despite LaCroix's inadequate guidance," he proclaimed at last, but his tone did not betray his conclusions.

"Well, I come from the Academic world and it is quite a warfare: there are the Elders, the Clans, even the Sects. They just miss the fangs and immortality, and they could be a small scale replica of the vampire Society," I half joked, making the Regent laugh, but it was actually the truth. The experience gained while dealing with the bigwig Professor and the various strata of the scholarly environment had been crucial for my survival after the Embrace: I was already used to the snobbism, the flattering, the internal feuds between the "barons" and to having to accept to be used as a tool, until I raised to a position where I, in turn, could exploit others.

"It appears that humanity has not changed much in these last few centuries. I used to be a scholar myself, an alchemist to be precise," he explained with a trace of nostalgia. Yet another thing we had in common, and maybe the primary cause of this weird feeling of familiarity. Still, in many other aspects we were extremely different, and it would be in my best interest never to forget it.

"Your proposal is not devoid of merit, although, as you correctly inferred, it poses several long-term implications that it would be unwise for me to underestimate."

"Yes, I understand," I meekly replied, trying to conceal my disappointment. I cursed myself for even daring to hope that my idea would be suitable: if the Primogen were racking their brains over this dilemma, it was surely above my grasp.

"Still, it is the best alternative that has been brought to my attention so far," he resumed with a smile and I simply could not believe my ears. "Therefore, I shall analyze it carefully in the hours that separate us from the Council."

"Thank you," I breathed out, unable to find my voice. It was much more than I had expected.

"No, Irene, you should not thank me. If you know what is good for you, you would better pray that LaCroix meets his final death as soon as possible."

"I know that, Max. Still, if the Camarilla sinks, so do I: we are on the same boat now. So I will take my chances, I do not have much of a choice either." It was a lie, and some part of me couldn't deny it: rationality had little to do with my current decision. Against my better sense, I just wanted LaCroix to live, and his eyes to stop haunting me. If once he went on "Saint Helena" he got himself killed, I would hardly shed a tear, what really mattered to me was that it wasn't my doing.

"Very well… Allow me to give you a final warning, as if I were your Sire. Your wisdom exceeds your years, Irene, but such a gift comes not without a cost. I advise you to be particularly mindful of whom you choose to share it with. Most of my peers will be ready and willing to exploit your ability on the field, but, as for your brain, they will see it as a threat, not an asset."

"And you do not share their vision?" I asked, once again nervous about all this praise. If it weren't sincere, it was a terribly bad signal.

"It is foolhardiness that frightens me, Irene, not intelligence. The decisions of a rational mind I can understand and predict, those of a dimwit or a madman are predominantly random and therefore much more potentially dangerous."

It made sense, but I did not know if I could fully believe him: dumb people rarely got far in the un-life. The truth laid in between, as far as I was concerned. Still, it wasn't as if I had much of a choice.

"I will take heed of your words, thank you for your concern."

"We should head back to the Chantry now, tomorrow night is going to be a very long one, and we must be adequately prepared."

As I turned the key and started the engine, a part of me couldn't believe that a night could be any longer than the one that was now coming to an end: it felt like a geological era had passed since I left Mercurio's apartment. But if there was one thing I had learnt in my un-life, it was that you could always count on things to get worse.

I drove to Downtown surrounded by perfect silence, Strauss was again lost in his own world, and I had to focus on the streets. I parked the car near the Chantry, and he hastily went inside the building after announcing to me that I could now safely go back to my haven.

I slammed the door of my apartment shut: I had never hoped to see it again and it almost felt surreal. I crawled up the stairs with the few energies I had left: there was only one thing I craved for more than my bed, and it was my shower.

I quickly got rid of my ruined clothes and stepped under the warm stream of water, taking my time to wash away the accumulated dirt and allowing my knotted muscles to relax. Finally, as I felt my eyes drooping closed, I forced myself to put on a bathrobe and stumbled towards the bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, torpor overtook my senses.

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**A/N: A small, transitional chapter, that should have been part of a longer chapter, but… I guess you know me by now, I like to go into detail, and these are really crucial parts to set the foundations for the story. ****The next chapter will be quite long, and it is already half done, more or less. Once the "crisis" is over, I'll go at a faster pace later, I promise, otherwise this would be a Neverending Story. I hope it doesn't get boring, if so I'll try to make amends and be more condensed in my writing.**

**Thanks, thanks and thanks to all the reviewers: I have never dreamt for such a warm reception, I am so glad you are enjoying this and I hope I won't let you down.**

**Kizzy – I am honoured to receive your first review! I have been visiting this site for years, as a reader, and until I started publishing my work, I couldn't realize just how important reviews of any kind are to support writers and motivating them to endure through writer's blocks or busy periods when you just have to squeeze writing in a very tight schedule. I'll try to keep the frequent updates (but that depends on real life, I am afraid) and as for abandoning the story, I have no intentions to. About the past, it is only in the literary sense, but she is narrating events of her present. She may have some suspicions about how things are likely going to evolve, but she doesn't have an insight in the future that would be there if she were narrating past events (things like "little did I know"…). I hope I was able to explain myself clearly.**

**Least but never last, an enormous thank you to Loving Companion Cube for helping me with the workings of the World of Darkness, for all the support, motivation and well, for everything!**


	6. Politically Correct

**Chapter Six: ****Politically Correct**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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A loud buzzing noise seeped through my unconsciousness, gradually bringing me back from it. I awoke with a start, realizing that it was the doorbell. Funny, now that I thought about it, it was the first time that I heard its sound, since no visitor had ever come to my haven. Still groggy, I went to the door and asked the caller to identify themself.

"It's me," the Regent's voice came through the door and, while one part of me breathed out in relief, the other half was in panic: had I overslept? It never happened, but I had been exceptionally tired yesterday.

"One second!" I called, hurriedly opening the door, and being greeted by Strauss' astonished stare. Looking down at myself, I realized I was still in my bathrobe, which wasn't a particularly revealing garment by modern standards, but for someone raised in an epoch when showing your ankles was considered an outrageous scandal, well…

"I am sorry," I babbled, mortified, hugging myself and taking cover behind the door-panel, being grateful for the small mercy that Kindred couldn't blush. "I was still sleeping, I do not know how it could have happened… Am I late?"

"No… actually, sunset was half an hour ago. But I wanted to confer with you before the meeting, and to head there together." His voice was impassive, but his eyes were trained on the floor. Great: how to lose a credibility built in two years in a matter of seconds.

"Yes, sure… Please make yourself comfortable, I will be back in a moment." I indicated the couch, rapidly closed the door behind him and ran back to the security of my room.

Cursing my idiocy I quickly donned my favourite formal outfit for business deals: a simple grey tailleur. I tied up my hair and put on my heels at record time, trying to get once again accustomed to them in the small walk downstairs. Strauss was inspecting my small library, the only personal touch in a mostly aseptic environment: this might be my haven, but it wasn't really home.

"I apologise for my impropriety before: the last few nights must have taken a higher toll on my body than I had expected… You awoke me and, fearing an emergency, I just rushed to open the door without thinking about my unsuitable attire."

I half bowed and held my breath, as he looked up from the book he was holding, a rather worn-out copy of Descartes' _Discourse on the Method_ that I had found by chance at a makeshift nocturnal flea market in Santa Monica.

"No, it is I who should apologise for not announcing my visit in advance. I should have imagined that you would need to rest beyond the usual unavoidable time of torpor," he replied, turning his attention back to the tome.

"You know, I made his acquaintance while he was serving under the Duke of Bavaria," Strauss recounted, indicating the book. "He had recently suffered from a mild Dementation, in Neuburg, although he was oblivious to it. It was fortunate, otherwise I would have had to dispose of him."

"The three visions were a result of Dementation?" I asked, baffled and wondering how many other decisive moments in history had been influenced or controlled by Kindred. At the same time, I was grateful to the Regent for the change of topic.

"Indeed…" he trailed off, putting the book back on the shelf. "Turning our attention to the present, there are a few points we need to discuss before heading to Venture Tower."

"The Primogen gathering in front of the Prince, normal routine, I see," I smiled at the cleverness of the logistic decision: the best hiding place was in plain sight, as Poe had taught me. Nevertheless, a small part of me was uncomfortable about going back to that place now that the Ancient Regime had fallen.

"I had no doubt you would appreciate the subtlety," he smiled back, as the awkwardness finally evaporated. "There are a few things I must ask of you, and I pray that you follow my indications carefully."

"Of course."

"First of all, for all extents and purposes the Prince is still believed to be in charge. I commend you for sparing the Ventrues, it has been vital for maintaining this façade. There is a Kine security guard, though, that appears to be quite… perturbed and is incessantly asking about his 'crumb cake'," he coughed and chuckled and I did not know if I wanted to hug or choke Chunk. I could already see that tonight was a bad time for my reputation. "I would like for you to reassure him and appear unfazed, as if he had imagined everything. Use Domination, if it is necessary."

"Yes, sir," I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

"Then, during the Council, I want you to be particularly watchful with everyone, principally the Ventrue, Brujah and Gangrel Primogen and later give me a full report on anything suspicious. I am sure you know how to appropriately act during these circumstances."

"Yes, do not speak unless asked to, be silent, respectful, and unobtrusive. In short, play dumb and listen carefully."

"Perfect. Whatever happens, follow my lead and, if fate does not play against us, we should emerge victorious."

"Yes, Max. I will."

I did not dare to ask him what he had decided about my proposal, after all I would discover it soon and there was no point in embarrassing either of us by bringing it up.

The walk to the Tower was mostly quiet, except for the odd stare here and there aimed at the Regent. He simply stood out, even in Downtown's mismatched crowd. Finally we reached the Tower, and he gallantly opened the door and let me pass first.

"HONEY PIE!" Chunk cried out as soon as I entered the building. He almost looked like he was on the verge of tears. I pitied him, and was almost touched, if not for the fact that it was terribly embarrassing.

"Hi, Chunk. Are you feeling all right?" I asked, as if I were surprised by his behaviour.

"Of course, Crumb Cake, it is you who… Well Mr LaCroix told me I couldn't let you in, and then I remember talking to you yesterday and then I don't know…" he trailed off, clearly puzzled. The Domination had effectively messed with his memories.

"Listen, Chunk, yesterday night you were here as usual, you were snoring on a donut, probably were having a bad dream and I just let myself in."

"But Mr LaCroix was very angry with you, he…" he insisted, flailing his big hands around.

Suddenly a scheme sprung to my mind, an idea that would allow me to put his suspicions to rest, while ridding myself of his endless flirting without having to openly reject him.

"Oh, but Sebastian and I squabble all the time, you know. When you feel so strongly for someone as we do, it is a normal thing, besides, it is a good excuse for making it up later," I winked, watching impassively as Chunk's eyes got even wider and damper. I felt bad for him, but it was better to burst his bubble now: this little game was getting out of hand and dangerous, most especially for him. All this running around asking questions was not good for his wellbeing. Besides, my "significant other" would never be here to disprove my assertions, no matter what the Primogen decided.

"What? You and Mr LaCroix…? But I… But I…" he babbled, as realization dawned upon him.

"Yes, well, we are quite protective of our private lives. But I had thought you had realised it, I mean, why should I always visit him at ungodly hours? To discuss business?"

I could feel the Regent coughing beside me and, with the corner of my eye, I could see he was valiantly trying to choke down laughter.

"But he…" Chunk meekly protested, indicating the Regent.

"I can assure you that all is well, my friend," Strauss provided, clearly amused. "Yesterday night I witnessed with my own eyes as he kneeled before her, begging for her clemency, and this unfortunate incident was solved. A rather… moving scene."

It was my turn to keep myself from bursting up. I hadn't expected for the Regent to help me in the play, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. You had to give the man credit: he had a great sense of humour.

"I see…" Chunk finally murmured, dejected, his head bowed down. "I will buzz you up, Crumb… I mean, Ms Wilson, Mr Strauss."

"Thank you, Chunk," I replied with a mixture of relief and melancholy, but this "courtship" couldn't go on, as heart-warming as it had been.

"Cr… Ms Wilson," he called at me, as I was heading towards the elevator.

"Yes, Chunk?"

"You won't tell Mr LaCroix about us, I mean about this… About…"

"Don't worry, it will be our little secret," I promised, winking and smiling.

"My lips are sealed," Strauss provided, as we stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed behind us, our eyes met and we both burst into a short but liberating bout of laughter.

"I am sorry for involving you in this little charade, but the poor guy has had a crush on me for the longest of time, and he just wouldn't listen to reason," I managed to say between chuckles.

"Do not worry, it was quite entertaining, and… invigorating. I hope you will manage to recover from having to part with your beau," the Regent replied, composing himself.

"I will be an inconsolable white widow for the years to come," I avowed, smirking.

The elevator clanged open and we turned deadly serious, heading for the Penthouse office. It was still empty. Strauss took the seat behind the desk, and I was now sure that it was to reinforce a point with the other Primogen. He gestured for me to stand beside him, in the place LaCroix usually reserved for the late Sheriff. Poor guy, I realised with a start that I did not even know his name. He was just an anonymous tool, a cog in the machine. And, perhaps, so was I.

A little while later, the door opened seemingly on its own, and I immediately knew who it was, so I was pretty unfazed when Gary Golden appeared out of thin air a foot before me.

"Herr Strauss," he drawled in mocking obsequiousness. "Hi Boss, heard you put on quite a show yesterday. Mitnick sends his regards."

"Primogen Golden," I courteously nodded, earning Strauss' approving glance.

Probably sensing that I wouldn't be of many words that night, Gary reluctantly took a seat.

We all turned as the door opened again, and two men and a woman walked in. Although it was the first time I met them, I could easily identify them as the Toreador, Gangrel and Brujah Primogen.

"Maximillian, it is always a pleasure to see you again, regardless of the circumstances," the first man exclaimed with a cheerful tone. He looked as if he were in his early forties, tall, with green eyes and black hair sprinkled with white. He could be considered handsome, and from this fact alone, coupled with his slight Hispanic accent, I identified him as the Toreador Primogen.

"Thank you Raoul," the Regent saluted politely, confirming my suspicions. I could see that he wasn't particularly fond of the other man's overly warm attitude. Still, he seemed quite at ease with him.

"And this must be our new local celebrity, Ms Wilson was it? I have been looking forward to meeting you, but good old LaCroix seemed to want to keep you all for himself!"

That sounded terribly wrong, I thought, hoping that the double entendre was not intentional. He offered me his hand and I politely took it, doing my best not to cringe as he brought it to his lips. I was extremely uncomfortable with "human" contact and welcomed it only from those people I was really close to.

"Primogen, it is an honour making your acquaintance," I replied in greeting, bowing my head slightly since I ignored his surname and did not deem it wise to call him by first name. Again, Strauss seemed satisfied.

"This is nonsense, we are not at a debutante tea party!" exclaimed a burly man that I could easily identify as the Gangrel Primogen. He was clearly nervous and impatient, a real wolf on the prowl. I suddenly missed Beckett and his sophisticated attitude.

"I agree with Joseph! Let's cut down the idle chatter, Strauss, we all know we are here because that damned Napoleon wannabe went barmy. As for his infamous _protégée_, I would like to know how come she is not being held with her _master_, considering that, last time I checked, she was accused of murdering one of the most prominent men of my Clan. Her change of heart is as belated and convenient as it is credible."

It did not take a genius to know that this was the Brujah primogen. She was a rather stocky lady, who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. Short grey hair, trimmed in a masculine style, she was dressed as a suffragette. Her feminism was apparently less strong than one would imagine, since she did not even deign to look at me, speaking as if I weren't there.

"Please, Anne, at a moment like this internal feuds should be set aside," Strauss entreated, and I could sense that she was grating on his nerves. I couldn't blame him, present situation notwithstanding; from what I had heard of her, she was the kind of woman provided with a very short fuse, who could start a momentous argument on the most trivial of topics. Well, she was Brujah, after all.

I was already rejoicing for the wonderful female representation in the Council when a familiar voice interrupted the kindling animosity and made us turn towards the door. There stood "Therese" Voerman, apparently as impeccable as always, nose up in the air and condescending stare, she was such a perfect rendition of a stereotypical Ventrue that at the beginning she had had me completely fooled.

"Primogen Voerman," Strauss greeted, grateful for the distraction, confirming my suspicions. Just wonderful, the women in the Council were a hot-headed lady who seemed to be on a perennial menopause hormonal rage, and a Malkavian with split personality disorder, tendencies towards self-destructiveness, promiscuity, and I did not dare to imagine what else. Still, at least I knew her, and she owed me quite much, most especially for keeping silent about her and her "sister". As her glacial eyes met mine, I could see that she was aware of it. Just then the Jeanette part gave me a wink, that Therese promptly masked by bringing a tissue to her eyes.

"Primogen Voerman, it's a pleasure seeing you again, it has been a long time…" I saluted myself, politely, trying to mask my amusement.

Everyone finally took their Chairs and, exactly two hours after sunset, the Ventrue Primogen made his triumphal entry. The best word to describe him was chilling: it wasn't the same kind of intimidation of Gary, a Tzimisce, or any other unnaturally shaped being. He was the kind of person who could make your spine shiver in uneasiness just with one look. And if I had thought LaCroix's eyes to be cold and daunting, his made my blood freeze in my veins. Tall, thin, with high cheekbones protruding from his stern face, he was how as a child I would have imagined a vampire to look like: perfectly white hair, reaching below his shoulders, black, emotionless eyes, he was one of those people who, even as a human, were of an unidentifiable age. Still, his slightly sagging skin suggested that he had been Embraced when he was way over his prime.

"Primogen Cutteridge," Strauss's tone was outwardly gracious, but I could immediately feel a tension filling the expanse of air between the two men. The fact that he had been included in the people I had to keep under strict surveillance seemed to back up my impression. Maybe he just had a dislike for Ventrues (which wasn't very reassuring), but I could sense there was more than that.

"Strauss," the man drawled out in a deep and slightly raucous gravel voice, as if bored, only to set those black holes on me. "So it is true: you are associating with a Childe of Ventrue, I had never thought I would see the day."

"I assess Kindred for their individual merits, not for their Clan," the Regent replied courteously; still, the veiled jab both at LaCroix and, presumably, at the Primogen, did not go unnoticed.

"But, of course, she is our Enfant Prodige, after all," the other man countered as evenly, gracing me with a smile that did not reach his eyes and that seemed out of place and disturbing in that face.

"Oh, please! Last week she was the bastard Childe of a traitor, who had lived up to her Sire by betraying your poor, precious Prince!" the Brujah interjected, clearly outraged by Cutteridge's "belated and convenient change of heart". So at the last council Brujah and Ventrue had formed an unlikely alliance: the former probably to avenge Nines' death, and the latter to suck up and cover LaCroix's royal derrière. Of course, now that the Prince had fallen, he had to prove that he wasn't an accomplice, thus the strained reverence. She, on the other hand, could raise the demand: last week, in the impossibility to frame the Prince, I had been a quite satisfying scapegoat, now she wanted both of our heads, though predominantly LaCroix's, if I may make an educated guess. But, since his guiltiness was not under discussion, she was concentrating her efforts on me.

"Primogen MacKenna, until yesterday we were not privy to LaCroix's treason, and had no proof of his duplicity. We merely made a decision based on the evidence available at the time; now that new information has been brought to our attention, we can re-evaluate the circumstances and Kindred involved under a new light."

Just as I had imagined, now his first concern was to play pious and to join the winning side. Still, I did not believe, even for a second, that he had truly changed his opinion about me. The contempt was there, although skilfully camouflaged, and I doubted it would ever fade.

"Please, Sirs, we are faced with an emergency, and we should concentrate our efforts on solving it," Strauss interjected, blocking MacKenna's retaliation. I could sense that he would have loved himself to see Cutteridge squirm, but, being wise, he knew it would have to wait. "And, Ms Wilson's conduct and loyalty to the Camarilla should not be under inspection. If it were not for her, we would have ignored LaCroix's duplicity and he would still be in charge, probably ready to sell us all to the Kuei-Jin to put his hands on the Ankaran Sarcophagus' key. She risked her life to allow us to dethrone him and to ensure the preservation of the Camarilla, despite having been undeservedly wronged by our most prominent representative. That…"

"That doesn't prove anything!" Anne interrupted fiercely, fists balled and half raised. "She killed Mr Rodriguez on the Prince's behalf, but then he used her as a scapegoat, so she, not having another choice, turned against him. It was just a matter of convenience, not heroics!"

Damn, she was really persistent, and, worst, she made sense! I hoped this wasn't going to become my trial, and that the Regent wouldn't give up and sell me off like LaCroix had, after I had done all the dirty work for him.

"She could have easily gone to the Anarchs and joined them, they used to be on good terms."

"Not after she murdered their leader!"

"Really, did she? Or, did anyone, for that matter?" Strauss asked, with a small smile.

"What do you mean?" Anne asked, and I could see she was worried. Luckily the Regent seemed set on protecting me, and he had evidently given up the hope of being able to move to the topic of LaCroix's fate before my name was definitely cleared. The other Primogen were watching the match without bothering to interfere, some of them because they had voted in my favour in the first place, as Strauss had told me, Cutteridge because the idea of LaCroix being a solitary traitor was awfully convenient most especially for him, and the others simply because, unlike MacKenna, they were more worried about the Prince, the scandal and the long-term consequences. I was an accessory, a pawn and my fate was not that important in their eyes, as long as it did not interfere with their plans.

"This morning Primogen Golden brought to my attention a very enlightening piece of evidence. If you will…" he gestured to Gary, who stood up with his usual smirk and produced a DVD.

"Yes Boss. Well, you see, Griffith Park has a surveillance system monitoring the two gondola stations at night, for safety reasons," he explained, approaching the giant flat screen and introducing the disc in the appropriate reader. "Since it is Werewolf territory, we Nosferatu have always been in charge of protecting the Masquerade: as each night draws to an end, we exchange the possibly compromising tapes with pre-made 'blank' ones. The substituted tapes are usually kept for a week and then overwritten with the blank video, to replace the new tapes and so on… We rarely check their contents, unless something unusual happens."

He pushed the play button, and an excerpt from the tapes, skilfully cut and mounted, went on before our eyes, starting with me disembarking the gondola. Then an outside camera filmed two people, who were easily recognisable as me and Nines, talking near the station. Next, something that looked like rain in the black and white video, but that I knew were ashes and, after Nines took some steps, a flash made him disappear from view. Gary rewound the tape and played it at a reduced speed, and the Werewolf could clearly be seen, claws and fangs unsheathed, jumping on Nines and rolling out of the view.

"The original unabridged tapes are available for inspection, if you have any doubts," Strauss explained, raising a hand to halt any comments. "But there is still more, Primogen…"

Gary resumed playing the tape and, in the fixed external view of the Camera I could be seen, running and being chased by another Werewolf, then coming back, presumably after having killed him, inspecting the cliff, looking for Nines, and taking my ride back down. Once again Strauss motioned for him to stop and then resumed talking.

"As you can see from the timer, Ms Wilson had to escape the Werewolf for three full minutes, until she managed to dispose of him with a rather clever move. I seriously doubt that anyone of sane mind would willingly set a fire to draw Werewolves out and then stay there to see it happen. It is clear that she and Mr Rodriguez were both set up by a third party, and the only one who knew of her mission was LaCroix himself. Then, as you can see, she mingled around to search for Mr Rodriguez, and, when all hope was lost, she finally went back to safety."

"That doesn't…!" MacKenna once again tried to protest but was cut short by the Regent.

"There is one final but vital clue to be gathered from this tape."

Gary hit the play button for the final time, and I froze: there could be seen Nines, crawling up the cliff, stumbling to the gondola and going down.

"You will be relieved to know that Mr Rodriguez is very much alive, or at least left the Park on his own more or less steady feet. I infer that he may now being laying low, healing his wounds and hiding from LaCroix, who he still believes to be in charge," Strauss concluded with a satisfied smirk.

Nines was alive: part of me was filled with an incredible relief, and another part could not help but notice with a pang that he wasn't that brave a hero, after all. Four full nights had passed since the incident, and he evidently valued his hide far more than mine, since he had not bothered to at least let it be known that he was alive. Of course it was the rational thing to do, he was better off being believed dead, but it clashed with the image everyone had of him. For the umpteenth time I was reminded that Anarchs really were not that different from the rest of us, and at least we did not pretend to be virtuous and above reproach.

MacKenna for a second seemed to deflate and concede defeat, but then fire once again glimmered in her eyes.

"First of all, why do these tapes come out only now?" she enquired venomously and on this point I couldn't really blame her.

"This question should be addressed to Primogen Golden," Strauss replied, and I easily detected that he was not very happy with Gary, but quite resigned.

"The Prince sent his Sheriff to threaten the brother who had salvaged the tapes. He was forced to give them up but, providentially, he had already made a copy. Still, he was so frightened that he did not tell me until yesterday night. You see, all is clear and limpid," he almost chanted, smirking, fully aware that this was the most transparent and implausible of lies. It was obvious that he was storing them as blackmail material and making deals with LaCroix for favours, until it became more convenient to let them out. Trademark Nosferatu and nobody would bother trying to prove him wrong: his services were precious and the terms and conditions clear. The highest bidder won, plain and simple.

"Well, even if all of this is true, she still turned against LaCroix only after he betrayed her. That cannot erase the fact that she spent two years playing his lapdog and covering who knows how many dirty secrets!" For some reason she did not want to give up, but I could hear that her argument was getting weaker and desperate, and she was probably just persisting to avoid having to admit defeat. The other Primogen were now showing some signs of irritation and impatience.

"I have now known Ms Wilson for nearly two years, and I can assure you that for the whole duration of our acquaintance she has proved to me that she is a person of her word, that her primary loyalty is to the Camarilla and, only subsequently, to its Prince and representatives. If you would allow her to recount the recent happenings, since it is the reason why she was invited to attend tonight, I am sure you will see it."

The others nodded in earnest agreement, clearly wanting to get beyond this by now moot point. Finally, even MacKenna saw it was pointless for her to continue and sat back once again, seething.

Strauss gestured for me to speak and, taking a comforting breath, I started doing so, narrating my discovery of the Prince's duplicity, of confronting him about it and the consequent results, of how Xiao had told me that he was behind her murdering Grout and pinning the blame on Nines, and my raids both at the Kuei-Jin Temple and Venture Tower.

It felt like being at an exam, in front of a commission, when you tried to scan the Professors' faces to gauge their opinion. They started out more or less impassable, some friendlier (like Raoul) than others; when I explained the truth behind Grout's demise, MacKenna looked like she wanted to burst and the others started to be seriously perturbed. Cutteridge, in particular, exuded nervous tension, and only his experience prevented him from fidgeting in his seat. By the end of my testimony, everyone, Anne MacKenna included, had evidently fully grasped what consequences the Conclave would likely bring. Obviously Strauss had not deemed it prudent to fully divulge the details before meeting them eye-to-eye, and they had only had a general idea. I was sure that even the Brujah, as much as she may more or less sympathise with the Anarchs, was now afraid of the possibility of facing a modern rendition of the French Revolution. In the collective madness of a "witch hunt", her head would not be spared.

"Thank you, Ms Wilson," the Regent said and I knew my role had been played and it was now in his hands. "I am sure it is not necessary for me to point out how the very existence of our organisation, not to mention our lives, are perilously hanging over a chasm. This is an unparalleled scandal and attempting to solve it with traditional methods may mean playing in the hands of our enemies."

I almost felt an electrical jolt: I could not believe my ears, that meant…

"Bloody bastard!" the Gangrel Primogen hissed a bit too forcefully. "He has condemned us all!"

"The Anarchs will think that we all helped the Kuei-Jin killing their last leader to reinstall our rule in the city," MacKenna whispered, wide-eyed.

"The Anarchs are the least of our problems: there will be a collective uproar!" Raoul exclaimed, and everybody had to agree. Nothing like the threat of impending death to reunite the different factions.

"Please, please, sirs. What you say is true, but not all is lost, if…" Strauss tried to regain the reins, but was rudely interrupted by Voerman's laughter. She had been silent until now, probably trying to keep control of the Jeanette side, but now I could see she was losing it. Marvellous.

"To think… TO THINK…" she uttered between more and more maniacal fits of laughter. I looked at Strauss and could see he was at a loss, probably she had never shown instability before, but faced with the possibility of death and unable to vent by bickering with her "sister" she was snapping like a dry twig… Maybe she would have been better off if I had let her dispose of one of the two personalities.

"To think… that it was… YOU… the perfect little princess… who convinced me to join the Camarilla!" she managed to exclaim between shattering chuckles, seemingly looking in my direction, since she was seated across from me, and the other Primogen did the same, comprehensibly astonished. I knew that this was simply Jeanette recriminating to Therese, the different nuance of her voice lost to an untrained ear in her hysteria. I hoped they wouldn't actually believe that, when I was barely more than a fledgling, I had been able to persuade an Anarch Baron of such a thing. So much for playing dumb: she made me sound like a true mastermind, a thing that could not be farther from the truth. Therese had taught me a hard and important lesson, and had shown me exactly what I should expect from the Kindred world. She had walked all over me, toyed me around in an endless fool's errand to amuse herself and only at the end I had managed to get something out of her, and I still couldn't believe how lucky I had been to survive the showdown between the two "siblings".

If this misunderstanding wasn't bad enough, there was also the fact that I did not want "Jeanette" to emerge, it was the only leverage I had on Voerman for future times. Besides, when she was out of control, she was extremely dangerous and the Primogen had more pressing matters to worry about.

"Primogen Voerman, please!" Strauss entreated repeatedly but it was futile, she was in her own world. Probably trapped in childhood nightmares, if her previous fits were any indication. He turned to me, as if expecting that I had a solution, probably mislead by her earlier outburst. But I had no authority over her, as far as I was aware the only person she feared was… Looking at the Regent an idea sprung to mind: it was so absurd it might actually work.

"Sir, if I may, could you send the other Primogen out for a brief recess?" I whispered to him, so low that only he may hear it. "I think I might know how to get her out of this… impasse, but we need to be alone with her."

"Could you all please excuse us and Primogen Voerman for a second? In these conditions it is impossible for us to proceed, since we need her vote. If you would kindly step outside…"

Some of them were suspicious, but, in the end, the desire to avoid being caught in one of the Malkavian's legendary breakdowns prevailed, and they scurried outside. A part of me wanted to go with them and listen to their conversations, but my presence was required.

"If you want to get to her, you need to play her father," I whispered to Strauss once we were alone. Understandably, he looked at me as if I were the mad one. I had never noticed it before, but thinking about the giant portrait at the Asylum's office, he and Therese's father shared height, baldness and complexion (well, the Regent was thankfully quite less creepy), maybe it could work.

"I beg your pardon?" he whispered back.

"Trust me, speak to her as if she were a small child and you her very strict father, and order her out until she has composed herself, so that you can resume your meeting. I will go with her and see that she can come back for the voting."

He seemed a bit uncertain, but then put on his best stern face and complied.

"Therese Voerman, is this the way to act in public? What have I taught you? I am very disappointed in you, young lady!"

Therese had a tremor, but stopped the histrionics immediately, looking at him with wide eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear and hatred. It was a piteous sight. The Regent in turn stared between her and me, quite shocked.

"I am sorry, father, I am sorry! You know I live for you, unlike my sister!" she cried, kneeling at Strauss' feet and clinging to his trousers.

"Stand up!" he ordered sternly and she recoiled, as if expecting him to hit her, but then hesitantly complied. "Go to your room to reflect about your actions and do not come back until you have calmed yourself down! This attitude is unseemly for a lady!"

The Regent was quick to catch up, as always, although he seemed extremely disturbed, not that I could blame him...

"Yes, father, yes, I will!" she lovingly crooned, obediently heading for the door. I made to follow her, but he blocked my arm.

"Later I expect an explanation," he murmured and I nodded.

"Yes, sir."

I spent the following hour watching over Voerman in the antechamber. I could barely make out the discussion going on inside, from the occasional outburst here and there (mostly from MacKenna and the Gangrel, unsurprisingly) I knew they were discussing my suggestion, or better, Strauss'. I cursed the Malkavian's terrible timing: I had wanted nothing more than to hear every tiny detail of this debate, now that for once I had been granted access to the "control room". Still, leaving the "siblings" alone was out of the question, and so I played babysitter, soothing, calming and flattering both of them in turn until they snapped out from childhood and returned to the present world.

At long last, Primogen Voerman was back, in all of her snobby, supercilious glory, and we could rejoin the meeting. The dispute seemed to be dwindling, and stopped entirely as we made our entry and returned to our places.

"Primogen Voerman, while you were… indisposed, we have reached a tentative agreement on a proposal submitted by myself, but we still need to proceed with the final round of voting," Strauss explained, and I could detect a trace of uneasiness in his voice.

"What is it about?" she asked, with a strangely meek tone, eyeing the Regent in an even more peculiar way. I was sure she did not remember him playing her father, not on a conscious level at least, but what about the subconscious? Oh goodness, I hoped for Strauss and for my sake that it wasn't as I feared, otherwise he might, quite fairly, want my scalp.

"In order to protect the Camarilla from a scandal and ensure the order and the stability in LA, we will not call a Conclave, at least not instantly. Sebastian LaCroix will be presented with a choice: either willingly resigning from his position and leaving the State of California and the West Coast, never to return, or facing a trial and, consequently, capital punishment. Appropriate measures will be taken by myself to ensure that he will not be tempted to reclaim power, they have already been discussed in detail, if you would like to hear them…"

"It is not necessary, Regent, I understand that there is a degree of urgency. I have made my decision, and am ready to cast my vote. Of course, if you would be so gracious as to spare me some of your time later to elucidate the specifications, I would be most grateful."

There she was, once again articulate, collected, rational. Still, there was an undertone in her voice that was not there before, and that, coupled with the fact that she wanted a private word with Strauss, did not assuage my worries.

"Certainly. In this case, let us commence with the voting. Those in favour of my motion, please raise their right hand," Strauss asked, and if I knew him at all, he was quite nervous. Whether for the verdict or for having to comply with Voerman's request, I could not tell.

Slowly, Raoul raised his elegant, pianist hand, shortly followed by Therese. Cutteridge seemed torn, and the fact that he feared LaCroix's survival, suggested to me that the younger Ventrue may know many a dirty secret about him, which he might be ready to spill. Finally, he leisurely lifted a bony finger, indicating his assent: between a possible scandal and a certain one, he preferred the first.

Gary, always striving for originality, performed a military salute and I wondered how much the tape and this vote were going to cost Strauss. I ignored what kind of majority they needed for this decision, it was an unorthodox proceeding after all, but there were already five votes against two, if one counted the Regent.

At long last, MacKenna and Joseph gave their assents simultaneously, and the Regent relaxed visibly. We had won, for now at least, the meeting was over. Or so I thought.

"Who is going to deliver the news to LaCroix?" Raoul asked, and it was an excellent question. Nobody seemed anxious to do it, and they all looked at Strauss expectantly. His suggestion, his problem.

"Do not worry, I will take the necessary steps," he replied, and it was almost as if tension lifted from the room. Kindred were adept at the noble art of "pass the buck", and the Primogen had taken it to superior levels of expertise.

The gathering drew to a close, to be adjourned after LaCroix's decision. The Primogen took turns in saluting Strauss: he had the reins, at least for now, and they acknowledged it with the customary sycophancy that came with the role.

Raoul and Gary took their time to address me and invite me to pay them a visit in their respective abodes. I did not know what was on the Toreador's mind, although their friendliness usually was a way to garner favours and I preferred people who called things for what they were. Gary indubitably wished to remind me of my debt to Mitnick and harvest the fruits; fair enough, I would have been surprised of the contrary.

At last, only Voerman, Strauss and myself remained in the office.

"Regent, if I may," she entreated, and I could feel she was impatient to be alone with him.

"Yes, Primogen Voerman, I just need to confer with Ms Wilson here for a minute. If you excuse us, I will return in next to no time."

Not waiting for a reply, he started to walk out and I quickly followed, practically feeling Therese's eyes burning at the base of my neck.

He entered an unknown room, which turned out to be a small but posh secondary study and locked the door behind us.

"About Voerman," I started, expecting he wanted his explanation, and fearing the consequences, but he interrupted me with a raised hand.

"As much as the inner workings of a Malkavian psyche intrigue me, it will have to wait and it is not the reason why I have called you here."

"It isn't?" I asked, incredibly relieved, but it was short-lived.

"I need you to speak with LaCroix and convince him of choosing Saint Helena, to cite your allegory."

Blood froze in my veins as I prayed I had heard him wrong. My suggestion, my problem, even if Strauss had taken all the credit. What was he playing at? "Pass the buck" indeed!

"Max, with all due respect, I… he will never listen to me after last night. I mean, he never even listened to me before last night. It is…" I protested, but yet again he interjected.

"I cannot trust one of the other Primogen with this. It comes down to either you or myself, and, after considering it carefully, I have reached the conclusion that your chances of succeeding are considerably higher. Not in spite of, but as a consequence of yesterday's events."

"I am afraid I do not understand."

"My presence inhibited him and we cannot afford him to refuse in a recrudescence of pride. Furthermore, I believe that seeing you might psychologically destabilise him."

"I see," I replied, not really persuaded, but resigned that remonstrations were futile. I just hoped that it wasn't a way for him to take all the merits if I succeeded and put the blame on me if I failed. Still, his head was on the line too, so there was no choice for us but to win: if he felt he had a higher probability of success, he would have been insane not to do it himself.

"He is currently being held in the safest of places: the dungeon beneath the Chantry," he explained, and I had a feeling that I should really strive never to displease him.

"Go to my study, if someone tries to block you, show them this," he said, putting a pendant with the Tremere emblem in my hand. It glowed in an unnatural way, making my skin tingle. "When you are sure you are alone, put it on and press it to the fireplace. It will open up a passage; whatever happens do not, and I repeat do not take off the necklace. It will light the correct path and protect you from our… security measures. Do not, for any reason, wander off the lit passageway, otherwise I cannot ensure your safety."

It was an euphemism for: you will meet a certain and excruciating death. A powerful reminder of the reason why Tremere were so feared and ostracised among Kindred.

"Yes, Max."

"You need not to worry about torpor or sunlight: you will be in a protected area, and there is a cot where you can take your rest, should you need more time. LaCroix is being contained by special shackles, that consume some of his blood should he try to free himself or pull on them with some force. Since we need him alive, make sure he does not lose his mind."

"I will."

"When he is ready to give a full confession in front of a camera, call me with the apposite bell. Failure is not an option."

"I understand," I whispered, bowing.

Without further ado, he opened the door and we both went to our respective business. Yes, you could always count on things to get worse, and the fact that I almost envied him for having to deal with Voerman spoke volumes about my state of mind. But I was so close, so damn close to the end of the tunnel, and after this I would never have to deal with LaCroix again.

Just another step, Irene, just another step… Hoping it wouldn't be a faux pas.

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*** ****René ****Descartes claimed that he had three dreams while in Neuburg, which inspired him to pursue science as a way to wisdom and truth.**

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**A/N: ****This chapter turned out to be incredibly long, just too many characters to introduce, things to say and do, even with a lot of problems purposefully left open for a later time. I really hope it isn't boring, but cutting it was impossible, in my opinion it would have disrupted the flow. I think you can imagine what next chapter will be about and I am really looking forward to writing it.**

**We are almost at the end of this crisis for**** the LA Camarilla, and now that the foundations are nearly done, I can really start building my story and let the plot unwind at a more rapid pace. So I hope you can bear with me. It will be a long ride, but I will do my best to make it a pleasant one.**

**Many, many thanks to ****sister-b****, ****Olivia**** and ****Loving Companion Cube**** for reviewing the last chapter and giving me your reassurances, as always they really mean a lot and motivate me incredibly. My heartfelt thanks also to ****gavergun****, ****Celeste ****and ****kizzy**** for your past reviews.**

**A big thank you to all th****e silent readers, I know you are there and am truly grateful for your support. I also know that some of you are following my story through alerts, I have been really tempted to send you a PM to thank you personally, but, having been a "lurker" myself for years, I did not want you to feel pressured. So I use this space to express my gratitude, I hope the story will continue to be enjoyable for you.**

**As always, ****criticism is welcome, and if anyone should decide to stop reading my story at some point, it would be incredibly helpful if you let me know the reasons why, so I can improve my writing for future times.**

**Last but not least, ****I do not want to sound like a broken record, but a very special thank you to ****Loving Companion Cube**** for all the help, while managing a very busy schedule and writing her masterpiece story, no less.**


	7. Upside down

**Chapter 7:**** Upside down**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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When I was a child, I used to be afraid of the dark, of the Haunted House at the fairground and generally of all spooky or gory things. Growing up, when being dragged to watch horror films, I had to keep myself from laughing most of the time. Not because I was a lion-heart (courage and stupidity are separated by a thin line, and constantly threaten to overlap), but since I had learned that the truly frightening matters were far more everyday and mundane: diseases, both physical and psychical, violence hidden behind the closed doors of glamorous villas and modest residences alike, and, generally, all those tragedies, mostly men-induced that strip human beings of their very souls and spirits, reducing them to mere empty shells of their former selves.

That was the reason why I was barely affected by travelling through the Tremere dungeon, filled with Gargoyles, traps and other unidentifiable manifestations. Sure, I was extremely thankful I had the Regent's pendant to protect me, and was once again reminded that, as much as I honestly enjoyed his company, he was on top of my list of people not to mess with. Nonetheless, it was what awaited at the end of the tunnel, beyond the wooden door I was now leaning on, that scared me the most. Witnessing LaCroix's breakdown at the Tower, as much as it may have not been sincere, had already affected me badly, and I did not want to see more. I wanted to remember him as the cold, manipulative bastard with a fast tongue and nonexistent scruples, who could hold a city in his palm.

Still, the small window at the top of the door, designed to keep an eye on prisoners and that I now knew for certain worked one-way only, gave back a very different image. Not bloody or tortured, the Regent was not an idiot and if LaCroix had to go to "Saint Helena", he would need to be apparently intact; besides, there are other ways to break a man. Nonetheless, seeing him seated on the damp stone floor, shackles on both wrists and ankles, still dressed in the tailored trousers and shirt of his latest suit, now tattered near the restraints and generally scruffy, like a metaphor of his own descent, was very disquieting. It wasn't as if I felt sorry for him, he deserved it all, and, had it been possible, keeping him in confinement for an indefinite time would have been a more than fair punishment. Still, observing him in these conditions felt like intruding into something mostly private, and even seeing him naked would have probably been less embarrassing.

I forcibly took a step back from the door and inspected the other empty cells, and, finally, the small room designed for allowing guards to rest. A bunk bed, a sink and a small fridge, which did not seem to be powered by electricity, but, after all, the room temperature was pretty low. Opening it I found some blood packs, and, luckily, most were of higher quality and fit for a Ventrue; maybe not my preferred variety but it would have to do. I took one and drank from it until I was sated, and, remembering the Regent's warning, I stuffed two others in my bag: the coldness of the dungeon would be enough to preserve them for some hours.

Gathering all of my courage, I put on my best imperturbable face and unlocked Pandora's door. LaCroix's head immediately shot up, poorly concealed fear written all over his face, replaced by surprise and then anger as he saw me.

"I am not here to escort you to the Conclave, if that's what you are thinking," I explained, sensing that I had had the right intuition. He was easier to read than usual, probably the imprisonment had taken its toll on him.

"Then, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to? Come to rejoice over your victory? To rub the salt in the wounds? It must be incredibly satisfying for you to have me at your feet, defenceless, but if you think you will see me squirming, or begging I…"

"Of course, the time for pleading is past, now that you think it won't do you any good," I replied evenly, blocking his tirade. Still, it was a good sign: his spirit was there, injured but still present. I needed someone who wanted to live and to fight, not a hopeless casket for our plan to work.

"As for the rest, it is nice of you to project your qualities upon me, but, unlike you, I am not gratified by tormenting a fallen opponent, and vengeance will not bring back what you have taken away from me."

"Like your beloved Mr Rodriguez?" he asked mellifluously, almost spitting out Nines' surname. So Strauss was right, not that it surprised me.

"I am sorry to inform you that, despite all your efforts, my beloved Mr Rodriguez is very much alive but still in hiding, while knowing that I had a blood hunt on my head. I do not know your definition of love, but in my book it does not consist of bringing the inquisition down on your darling's neck reciprocally."

I could see the news of Nines' survival had hit him: he hadn't even managed to get rid of his Nemesis, and had lost it all in the process.

"Why are you so obsessed with Nines?" I asked, out of sincere curiosity.

"I am not obsessed with Rodriguez!" said the guy who bargained his whole reign for a coffin, actually outraged.

"In my humble opinion, you have always given the Anarch leader far more importance than he is worth. Sure, he is well-loved amongst Kindred, but he has been defeated by both the Camarilla and the Kuei-Jin; he and his gang were not that much of a threat, at least compared to the Sabbat or your late friend Xiao's troops."

"In spite of your idiocy, you have said it yourself, he is well-loved. Everybody adores his irresponsible antics, they find them _charmant_. While I, for trying to keep order in the City and forbidding them to fornicate and Sire their ways into oblivion, was a fascist oppressor."

Imprisonment was really making him open up, at least for his standards: this could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get information out of him. He was envious of Nines, of course, how could I have not seen it before? The Brujah was liked and respected, despite having no official position; LaCroix was well… feared at first and then gradually ended up being mocked by his own Primogen, although that was mostly his responsibility. Liked, as far as I knew, he never was. Might there be a great subconscious insecurity hiding behind LaCroix's mania of grandeur and apparently inflated ego? Could it be this same insecurity that had lead him to believe that he wouldn't be able to "hold the fort" without some higher supernatural powers and that had started his descent into madness? He had a Napoleon complex, at the very least, of that I was sure.

"Then yesterday night was not retribution?" he scoffed, clearly trying to change the subject and I let him, since I had gathered my conclusions and he would never admit to it, even if it were true. His eyes were trained in front of him, at the level of my knees, while I had to crane my neck down to look at him. Maybe he had liked the power trip of staring down at people from a height, but I just found it uncomfortable.

"No, it was good sense, not something personal, as much as your ego might not believe it," I replied, unbuttoning my jacket and slowly sitting down on the floor myself, across from him but out of his reach. With the skirt and heels it was not very comfortable, but I had a feeling that it would pay off.

"The main problem was not the fact that you tried to frame me for Nines' 'death', or called a blood hunt on my head. It wasn't pleasant, but I know how these things work: in politics, these kind of deceptions are almost second nature, and from you I expected no less, from the very beginning," I explained, sensing I had his attention.

"Maybe I would have come back to you, if I had thought you had the Camarilla's, or even just your best interests at heart. But when you realise that the Prince, the Kindred who is supposed to be the wisest and most powerful, cannot even see what is good for him anymore, and is destroying himself and all he has accomplished in centuries, then you know that either he falls, or you and the whole community will."

"HOW DARE YOU!" he growled, trying to grab me but clashing against the chains, and consequently yelling in torment as some of his blood was burnt. Damned idiot! Luckily I had planned in advance how to react to a tantrum.

In a few seconds I was on him, staking him straight in the heart, with the chirurgical precision that seemed somehow second nature to the Kindred condition and opening another tear in the tattered shirt. I took out a blood pack, pressing it to his open mouth, careful not to cut myself on his fangs.

"Now I am going to remove the stake, and if you want to prove me wrong, you are going to drink and stand still. Because killing yourself in order to clutch me, when you perfectly know that it is futile, only seems to back up my precedent assertion." I could not believe I was giving orders to LaCroix, it was so… alien. It reminded me of when my mother had had a stress-induced nervous breakdown, that fortunately had resolved itself in a few days of rest, and I had to take care of her, like she were the baby: it had felt so inherently wrong to invert the roles.

I quickly pulled out the stake, and jumped back from him; better to stay on the safe side and out of reach. But it was unnecessary: LaCroix was greedily sucking from the plastic bag, and I inferred that he probably had not being able to feed since his arrest. Nothing like hunger to turn a run of the mill blood into the finest of vintage. I sat back down.

The bag was emptied and discarded, but silence still filled the cell, as LaCroix stared at me intently, as if he were trying to see right through me. I wouldn't put it past him to be able to, in normal conditions, but since I had been able to resist his Domination and he was now not really himself, I doubted he would manage to. I simply stared back at him, in a sort of unspoken war.

"Why are you set on keeping me alive? Not wanting to be deprived of the execution of the century?" he finally asked, massaging his wrists.

"Sorry to disappoint you again, but I am not into _Panem et Circenses_. That was your policy."

"But maybe your dear _Max_ is?" he asked and, if possible, the taste he gave to the Regent's name was even more bitter than when he talked about Nines. "How long have the two of you been consorting behind my back?"

"Four nights, actually, unless you consider being polite with one of the most influential Primogen as such."

"Do you take me for an idiot? Being on a first-name basis with a man like Strauss is quite far beyond simple courtesy," he snarled, clearly unconvinced. I was grateful that the question was rhetorical, because at the moment he would not have liked the answer.

"Believe what you like… I am not here to discuss my social life, but to make you a proposition."

"A proposition? You have nothing to offer that might appeal to me," he uttered slowly, sneering and scanning me. I hoped that it was only my overworked brain that kept on making up nonexistent double entendres, albeit insulting ones.

"I would not be so sure of that. Besides, it is on the Council's behalf, I am the ambassador, so to speak."

"Ah, it is our dearest Strauss who sends you, as I had imagined," he murmured poisonously, knitting his brows together, eyes reduced to slits. "Very well, you can spare yourself the trouble and tell the Primogen that I am not interested, unless they proffer to set me free and turn themselves into ashes, while they are at it."

"Well, I cannot make any promises about the voluntary combustion, but as for the first part there might be certain margins for a negotiation. Still, if you really want me to leave…" I trailed off, starting to get up and quite purposefully rummaging in my purse, so that he might see the blood pack inside. I knew that the last one would not have been nearly enough to quench his thirst completely.

"Since you have already decided to impose your presence… Go on, humour me," he drawled with a smirk, but I could see I now had his full attention. Hope dies last, they say, and I was sure that even LaCroix was no exception.

"The Council has decided to give you a choice, that will allow you to avoid the Conclave and a most certain death sentence," I started to explain, settling myself back down and leaning against the door panel. "You will resign from your position as Prince of Los Angeles, by your own volition, and will, without delay, leave the State of California and the West Coast of the United States of America, never to return."

"An exile, like Napoleon?" he murmured, closing his eyes. "Who is behind this idea?"

"That is hardly important, what truly matters is that it is the only option you have," I replied, not really wanting to answer to this question, since I did not know what I should tell him.

"I doubt it is offered out of generosity," he scoffed, joining the tips of his fingers. "The Primogen fear the scandal, am I right? If I refuse, I will go down, yes, but I will take them, and _you_, along with me. So, what makes you think that I shall accept?"

I did not like the maniacal glint in his eyes, I had to bring him back to reason and one sure-fire way to get to him was Clannish pride.

"The fact that self-destructing yourself to hurt your opponents is hardly the way of a rational Ventrue. Maybe a hot-headed Brujah would do it, but we are not born to be Kamikaze… to send other people out on suicide missions, most certainly, but we… We are designed to endure, to resist, to survive, because we know that as long as we do there is always another chance, to learn from our mistakes and get back up."

"Are you trying to teach _me_ what being a Ventrue entails?"

"No, I am simply trying to remind you of your own teachings, since you seem to have forgotten them."

It was a lie: he had hardly taught me anything, but better not push my luck with his temper. Nevertheless, I half expected him to throw another tantrum, but he just looked at me intently, and if a gaze could burn, I would be a pile of ashes.

"What are their conditions?"

"First of all, for obvious reasons, you will not be allowed to recount what really happened these last few nights, but that is in your best interests too. You will have to give a full confession of your recent… misdeeds, which will be recorded and stored. Should you try to return, regain power or in any way pose a threat to LA Camarilla, it will be made public, and you know how fast news travels nowadays."

"What guarantees do I have that you will not divulge this tape anyway, or use it to keep me under constant blackmail?"

"You don't have any… But, as you said, the Primogen want to avoid the scandal, so, it seems only logical that they will not let it out on a whim."

"Indeed," he pondered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anything else?"

"Yes, any information you have on Primogen Cutteridge, which we are going to verify carefully, of course." It was a risky move, but a situation like this was unrepeatable and it was my "trust fund" for the future.

"I doubt this is a request from the Council."

"It is not, but the circumstances are… peculiar. We cannot risk you blackmailing him in order to get back in the city, can we?"

"So you are taking the matter into your own hands?" he half-asked with a strange tone, and I did not bother to answer, since it was quite rhetorical. "First you would have me banished from my domain and then subject me to facing the wrath of the Elders of our Clan for slighting a Primogen… Splendid."

"It is not as if his skeletons would be bared for the public to see, and he is going to have more pressing issues to worry about than you."

"Like you and Strauss?"

"I am sure the Regent will keep him quite busy, yes. And you should know it from first-hand experience." At that, LaCroix actually chuckled, albeit bitterly, but at least it was not the maniacal laughter of the night before.

"What if I refuse this last request? It is not an official clause, and I could always relate our engaging conversation to Cutteridge, once I am in exile. As you said, with modern information technologies, news spreads instantly."

"Well, first you have to get to the exile. You are on Tremere grounds now and it would be extremely unfortunate if you were to pull on those chains with too much force or try an escape and… turn up dead. With the Sheriff and Xiao having passed away, I am sure that it would not be terribly difficult to give your demise a credible back-story. And I wager that most of the Primogen and the majority of the Kindred populace will be too relieved to bother to ask too many questions. From what little I have seen of the Regent's powers, the beheading would be a blessing, compared to their methods of execution."

"Are you threatening _me_?" he hissed, with that reptilian expression back on his face.

"I am merely presenting you with the possible outcomes of your actions, since you asked me to," I bluffed, since I knew Strauss wanted LaCroix to stay alive, but I was sure that he would forgive my little gambit if it brought him a leading hand over Cutteridge. Soon the gears for the election of the new Prince would set in motion, and this would help the Regent, and consequently myself, no matter if he decided to take the spotlight on himself or not.

Silence once again enveloped us, and he put his head in his hands, probably pondering over his options. Every now and then, though, I caught him stealing some furtive glances in my direction and I did not know if it was a good sign or not.

"I never would have imagined you had it in you," he finally murmured, as if speaking to himself. "You seemed the perfect prototype of a subservient, trusting little soldier, swallowing my every word without questions. Never a doubt, never any hesitation, just pure obedience... Had I known you were like this…"

"I wouldn't have lasted a week," I replied with a smirk; so I had been convincing in my act, that was good to hear. But it was more than that, now that he made me think about it: two years ago I was really not the same person I was now. Sure, I wasn't the gullible lapdog I had played in his presence, but that Irene would not have been able to carry out the banter we had had just now, to understand which buttons to push, to take a gamble. I realised with a start that my latest retorts would have sounded quite perfectly on LaCroix's lips. He had changed me, this world had changed me and I was not certain that it had been a positive evolution.

"Probably not," he admitted, leaning back on the wall behind him, seemingly lost in thoughts. "But it would have been… intriguing, breaking this spirit of yours down into submission…"

Ok, this was positively creepy, the feral look in his eyes and the way he licked his lips while he was probably daydreaming of literally crushing me to a pulp. How could you respond to something like that?

"I could think of more rewarding hobbies, but… as they say, whatever floats your boat, I guess." There, humour, my last resort.

"Then, by all means, share your expertise on the subject: if I accept your most generous _offer_, I will have plenty of leisure time from now on." Behind the venom I was able to perceive the pain and the disorientation. I could not say I knew him much, but, as far as I could tell, he was a real workaholic, and as a Prince he must not have had even time to have a break. His life was going to undergo a revolution, and, although having time to reflect on his actions should be therapeutic, it was doubtless a perspective he dreaded. Maybe it was time for a different approach.

"They say the higher up you are, the more it hurts when you fall… When I was Embraced and you… took me in your service… everything I had, everything I was… it was taken away from me in a moment. I was forced to reinvent myself into something I had never expected I could be. It was a searing pain, but, in perspective, it was just a dive down a small flight of stairs: you have come crashing down from the top of Venture tower, in comparison. So, I cannot pretend to fully understand how it feels, but what I know is that the sooner you accept that this is the reality and move on, the higher chances you have of surviving the blow," I explained with a soft tone, taking my time.

First a "slap", and now a "caress", a usually effective persuasive technique. LaCroix had taught me something after all, though unintentionally. It felt strange using his own methods on him, but I hoped it would work.

"Listen, we both know this could be your Elba or your Saint Helena. It would be irrational of you to fulfil Napoleon's destiny until the end: LA, California and even the whole West Coast are only a small part of a large world. Time is not a problem and you may have lost a lot, but few Ventrues have accomplished in two hundred years the things you have. In spite of your recent mistakes, and even if there is not any love lost between us, I would be a fool not to acknowledge the fact that you are not an ordinary Kindred. I am sure you have extensive knowledge and connections, both in Europe and on the East Coast. Consider this incident a lesson on the dangers of obsessions and of relying on shortcuts. Learn from it and, with some patience, I am certain that you will get back to greatness, just somewhere else."

Again, I expected a fit of temper for daring to lecture him, which was something so foreign for me as to be physically exhausting. He merely drew back to what seemed to be his favourite pastime as of late: scanning my face with those grey eyes. Suddenly, his expression changed in an amused smirk, which I could not understand for the "life" of me.

"The exile… it was your idea, am I right?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Do you seriously think that the Council would listen to me?"

"No, but _Max_ would… It seems that I was correct, after all: you have truly brought me the key to my future, and I fully intend to take advantage of it. You can tell Strauss that I accept the conditions."

There was an intimidating undertone in his voice and a strange fire in his eyes that made a shiver run down my spine. He was not back to his former self, but his spirit was recovering, I could sense it, and I did not know if I were more relieved or more worried. If there was one thing I was certain about, it was that I did not envy those who would find themselves on his way.

"As I said, believe what you like. In any case, I am going to call the Regent so that the two of you might go over the minor details and proceed to the fulfilment of all the clauses," I said, standing up.

Silence overtook us once again; for a split second I had the impression that LaCroix was going to say something, but he didn't. I knew this was the time when I was supposed to say goodbye, but the situation was hardly conventional. Plus, the mere idea of an un-life without LaCroix in it was surreal, although not in a bad way. It would take time getting used to it.

"I guess I won't see you again before your… departure, so… _Adieu_, sir."

"_Au revoir_, Irene… _Au revoir_," he replied with a smirk and I did not know if I were more unsettled by his use of my first name, or by his choice of words.

With one last look in his direction, I stepped out and locked the door behind me, leaning on it and exhaling a long breath..

I took a few strides and pulled the rope of the antique bell. No sound came out, but I was not surprised: ironically, it was what worked exactly like it should that amazed me nowadays.

After about ten minutes, I heard steps and the Regent appeared before me, seemingly perplexed and carrying a bag.

"I take it that he has accepted the proposal, unconditionally?"

"Yes, Max. He is ready for the play."

"Excellent work, Irene. You have performed well tonight."

"Thank you, sir… Truth to be told, he has agreed to an extra condition too," I explained, trying to gauge his reaction. I knew I had not consulted him before, but it had been a unique opportunity.

"What do you mean?"

"He is prepared to share with you all the… skeletons in Cutteridge's closet that he knows of…"

"I beg your pardon?" he asked with a strange tone and I inwardly cringed. Had I dared too much?

"Well, he was… more talkative than usual… quite open for his standards and I thought… _Carpe diem_… Considering how uncomfortable Cutteridge seemed to be about LaCroix's survival, and how they used to be on the same side… I guessed he must know some dirt about the Primogen and I was afraid that he might… you know… blackmail him once he were in exile to try and get back… I am sorry if I…" I babbled, worried about not being able to read Strauss' expression. Suddenly, I was interrupted by his chuckle.

"There is nothing to apologise for: I was merely surprised by your initiative, and not in a negative way," he clarified with a smile. "The idea had occurred to me as well, but my priority was obtaining his confession. After I had the tape safely in my hands, I had planned to make an attempt in that sense. Thus, I must thank you for anticipating me and avoiding me the aggravation of an exhausting negotiation."

"No problem, Max. It was the least I could do to express my gratitude for trusting my word when I turned to you. Besides, I doubt that Cutteridge is the leader the Camarilla needs right now, so…"

"Yes, in relation to that, after I am done with LaCroix, I shall need to discuss certain matters with you. I trust that I will find you at your haven," he said, and it was basically an order. Still, right now I wanted nothing more than to rest, so it was a blessing in disguise.

"Yes, of course."

"This time, I shall remember to announce myself in advance," he half-joked, approaching LaCroix's door and I chuckled to hide my embarrassment, bowed and took my leave.

It was over, it was really over and I could feel all the tension of the last few days turning into exhaustion. All of my efforts had been focused on this, and now that I had accomplished it, I felt drained and disorientated.

It was the end of an era, the end of "innocence", and, once again, my life had been turned upside down and I had been able to pull myself out of it. Maybe it was for that reason that I felt unusually optimistic: it was only the end of the beginning, not the beginning of the end. At least, that was what I needed to believe.

**

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**A/N: This chapter was extremely difficult**** to write, because LaCroix is not really himself, and thus, not having some benchmark to work with, I had to try to make him somehow different without overturning him completely. Since the roles basically revert in this chapter, it was a real challenge. I do not know if I managed to… let me know what you think. In any case, do not worry, it will not be forever and I can't wait to write a more or less normally functioning LaCroix again.**

**An enormous thank you**** to sister-b, Olivia (you made perfectly sense and… I can tell you that Beckett is going to make an appearance… sooner or later), Loving Companion Cube, Topska (Strauss will not hesitate to show his displeasure in no uncertain terms, when he needs to, and it will not be pleasant for Irene… So you will get your wish really, really soon) and kizzy (no problem and… the Primogen may be mostly useless, but… well, it would be dangerous underestimating them…) for reviewing the last chapter. As always, you encourage me to no end.**

**Many, many thanks also to all the silent readers!**

**As always, a special thank you to Loving Companion Cube for all the support and empathy about the difficulties of writing a "different" LaCroix.**


	8. Bonds and Boundaries

**Chapter 8: ****Bonds and Boundaries**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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I woke up very late the following night, ran some house errands that I had been neglecting and checked my overflowing email. A few reminders from Gary, to whom I replied that I would visit him as soon as I could, some spam and a mail from Mercurio who wanted to make sure I was all right. I wrote him that I was fine and thanked him, without going into too much detail since I was not allowed to. I really had to think of some way of repaying him, and, although cold hard cash would surely make him very happy, it wouldn't hurt for once to do something different.

For that night though, I only wanted to rest, even if it felt strange having time for myself. I scanned the library in search for a book but I needed to relax, so Maths and Economics related publications were out of the question. Mystery and horror, no thanks, I had had enough of that in the last few nights: I almost regretted my revulsion for romantic novels because right now one of those chick flicks where every character is two-dimensional and everyone's biggest problem is their love life would have at least provided some comic relief.

I turned on the big TV that I rarely used anymore and did some zapping: so many channels and nothing interesting. Finally my attention got caught by a film about the infamous _Affair of the Diamond Necklace_. Since I was a child, I had always been fascinated by the history of France, especially by the events that had lead to the French Revolution. Now, though, it only reminded me of the fact that LaCroix was probably born a few years after this scandal, most likely in the midst of the madness following the Revolution. When he was old enough for cognisant memories, however, the Napoleon era would have already begun, so he had almost certainly grown up considering Bonaparte as a myth and a model…

Luckily, the sound of an incoming email dragged me away from my musings and I went upstairs to read it.

_From:__ Therese Voerman  
__To:__ Irene Wilson  
__Subject:__ Meeting_

_Ms Wilson,_

_I would like to set an appointment with you post-haste. Could you come to the Asylum tonight?_

_Regards,_

_Primogen Voerman_

Wonderful, just what I needed. The fact that she had decided to contact me for the first time after months, now of all times, seemed to confirm my suspicions. Of course, it may simply be related to the fact that I was close to the probable future Prince, but I had been the most prominent agent of the Prince in charge for the last two years, and that had not seemed to interest her. I sighed: I had to talk to Strauss about this, although I was sure he would not take it well. I did not think it wise to reply to her that I could not go because I was waiting for the Regent to call at my house: that would have been suicide, if my fears were correct.

_From:__ Irene Wilson  
__To: Therese Voerman  
__Subject: RE: Meeting_

_Primogen Voerman,_

_I regret __informing you that tonight I have previous engagements that it is not in my power to cancel. I apologise for having to deny your request, but I assure you that, as soon as I am free, I will call to schedule a meeting._

_Respectfully yours,_

_Irene Wilson_

I had barely had time to send the mail when another one came in. It was the Regent, informing me he would be here in half an hour. Grateful for the warning, I made sure that the apartment was immaculate and that I had a decent vintage of blood to offer. I was certain he could afford much better, but it was merely meant as a courteous welcome.

The doorbell buzzed and this time I was ready, greeting Strauss with a half-bow, letting him sit on the couch and pouring him a glass of vitae which he politely accepted.

"Everything has gone smoothly with LaCroix, I have personally escorted him to a special private jet, which is scheduled to land at LaGuardia in two hours," he broke the silence, placing the empty glass down on my coffee table.

"That's a great relief," I answered, doing the same.

"Indeed, but it is not yet time to lower our guards or celebrate: as you indubitably understand, we now need to focus our attentions on the upcoming election of the new Prince."

"Yes, sir."

"From your tone I presume that you have a question for me," Strauss said with a half-smile and I nodded in response.

"I do, but I know it is not my place to ask."

"Allow me to be the judge of that," he replied and I relented although with some worry.

"I was simply wondering if you are going to… candidate yourself for the position. I know how you told me you prefer to stay in the backstage, so to speak, but the situation is quite… atypical."

"Yes, that is correct. After a long and rigorous meditation, I have taken an irrevocable decision in that sense. Before sharing it, though, I would like to hear your opinion on the matter."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely confused: if he had already made up his mind, there was no point in it.

"To see whether our conclusions match, in view of the fact that we seem to be of the same mind, more often than not."

Great: a test, just what I needed right now. So much for relaxation: I would rather have done a marathon reading all of the papers on the latest developments in advanced macroeconomics. And that was saying something.

"Well, my opinion is this: although I understand the benefits of not being under the limelight, to survive the Camarilla now needs someone who can represent a change, a metaphorical breath of fresh air, someone who is known for not having been fond of LaCroix's idea of ruling and who was not on his side. Most importantly, it needs someone who is able to think about the long-term, who is intelligent and experienced, and measured in his decisions, as a contrast to LaCroix's impulsiveness. I do not know many Elders, but, judging from the Council alone, it is clear to me that no one but you could be that man, Max. And I do not say it as an attempt at adulation. The only alternative solution could be using the information you have on Cutteridge to make him your figurehead and manage things from behind. But the Primogen is surely renowned for his dealings with LaCroix and as such, lacks the necessary credibility… Moreover, once he is in power, he might find a way to rebel to your control..." I trailed off, not really knowing what more to say.

"There are several secondary elements you have not taken into consideration, Irene, but you do not possess all the necessary background information. In spite of that, you have outlined the key factors which have been crucial in my analysis," he explained, meeting my eyes. "In fact, I shall run for the role of Prince, but with the understanding that it is going to be a temporary mission. I will take it upon myself to carry the Camarilla through this moment of great instability, and leave the post once I feel that this purpose has been fully accomplished."

The question that rose to my mind was "why?" but I did not dare to voice it. As much as I liked and respected Strauss, he did not strike me as a charitable type (charitable and Kindred were oxymora in my opinion), so why should he take the burden? What would he gain besides the momentary power in doing all the work and then having someone else reap the benefits?

"You must be asking yourself the reason why, and I might explain it to you before this night draws to an end. But first, I would like to hear your insights on the Council you have taken part in and, more importantly, on the other Primogen."

Was this whole night a never-ending examination? It felt like he was going to share information as a reward for correct answers. I did not have much of a choice, though, did I? So I reported my impressions, trying to avoid the Voerman incident as best as I could.

"You are rather apt at assessing characters, considering your scarce experience and the limited time at your disposal. There are numerous layers that lay still far beyond your grasp, but, as I had expected, you have potential and a natural predisposition for politics. Lawrence had a good eye in selecting you."

"You know, his name has been brought up several times in the last few days, but I… I barely know anything about him. From what LaCroix told me, they were not exactly on friendly terms, but that's not a surprise," I replied, hoping that the Regent would at least give me some scraps of information.

"Indeed, it is not, but it went deeper than you might imagine. Mr Thompson was not a run of the mill Ventrue: he and Cutteridge both aimed at becoming Primogen. The latter was openly supporting LaCroix, while your ill-fated Sire had expressed some reservations about the youth and relative greenness of the chosen Prince: he had backed LaCroix's competitor before and during the election. You can imagine why Cutteridge prevailed in the end."

"This _competitor_, where is he?" I asked, sensing something was off: if he were still in LA he should now be a logical candidate for the position of Prince.

"As they say, he is blowing in the wind: his jet exploded in midflight, two months after LaCroix was nominated. The official story was that it was the consequence of a Sabbat or an Anarch assault, but it was then that the first unsavoury rumours about the Prince started circulating. The entire incident appeared far too convenient, given that it beheaded the internal opposition he had in Clan Ventrue."

"I see," I replied with a smirk: it seemed LaCroix's modus operandi, all right.

"I had never been particularly fond of LaCroix and his style, but after this episode I began to be gravely concerned about the haste of his decisions. Eliminating problematical opponents is a common practice in our world, but I felt he lacked patience and discretion in choosing the appropriate timing to avert suspicions."

So, as I had supposed, Strauss was not above these methods: he was simply better at covering his tracks and, therefore, even more dangerous. An extremely comforting information.

"My Siring must also have been a blessing for him, since it gave him the perfect excuse to get rid of Lawrence, although, due to Nines' intervention, it also burdened him with my presence," I mused, finally understanding LaCroix's outburst and the way he had spoken before pronouncing my Sire's sentence. The words were apparently filled with regret, but now that I knew him, I could easily recognize his "cat who just ate the canary though he must pretend not to" tone.

"Yes, it was an unexpected stroke of luck for LaCroix. Subsequently, as the tales of your accomplishments travelled through the city, it seemed quite paradoxical that the Childe of his former antagonist was turning out to be the key of his success. In the end, however, you have avenged your Sire and completed his mission. Perhaps it is true that Blood will out, regardless of the circumstances."

"What I still do not understand is why Lawrence Embraced me, giving his enemies such an opening. Furthermore, to be considered a potentially suitable Primogen, he must have been quite powerful and experienced. Yet, he got caught immediately and did not put up a fight. It might have been the surprise factor but the whole affair of my Embrace does not make any sense to me."

The fact that Lawrence did not belong to a very late generation partially explained why I had had a chance at resisting LaCroix's Domination and, generally, at surviving this whole ordeal. But it only raised more questions: my blood and my powers were diluted compared to my Sire, plus he had probably had centuries of training. The choice of a run-down place like the Luckee Star Motel was, in retrospect, an attempt to avoid places commonly frequented by Ventrues and Hollywood was still in Anarch hands. But the rest… it was against all logic. It could not even be attributed to a mad passion for me on his part, since we barely knew each other and I was sure that love had not anything to do with his motivations. Had he gone mad? My head felt like it could explode.

"I do not have the answers you seek, Irene. I might draw some assumptions, but it would be mostly a pointless exercise," he clarified, crushing all of my hopes. Maybe he was lying, it was a possibility, maybe not; still, I could not ignore the fact that he had waited until now to relate these events. What surprised me the most, though, was the fact that nobody, not even the Anarchs had ever taunted me about this, since it seemed to be a common knowledge. There had been hints, yes, but no one had ever openly talked about my Sire and his enmity with the Prince. Did they all think that I knew it already? Or was there some other reason?

So many questions, so few answers. At least now I had something to work with.

"Did any of the Primogen contact you?" Strauss asked, changing topic and I felt a cold hand clutching my lifeless heart. I had let myself get carried away and I wondered if his mentioning Lawrence's name was a strategy to distract me from asking him about the motivation behind his choice to run for Prince and, thus, to allow him to gather more information from me before disclosing what he saw fit.

"Yes, Gary Golden and the Toreador Primogen, whose surname I ignore, asked me to pay them a visit. Gary has been quite persistent in his mail reminders. Before your arrival, Primogen Voerman sent me a mail asking me to meet her tonight. I have told her I had previous engagements and that I would get back to her as soon as I could," I explained, suddenly feeling heavier.

"You should comply with their requests in the next few nights, I would suggest giving priority to Golden and Voerman, since they are rather… volatile. As for Raoul Valdez, he is a long-term acquaintance and ally of mine, but it would be extremely imprudent for you to underestimate him or to let your guard down in his presence because of his affability."

"All right, Sir. I will follow your recommendations."

"Regarding Primogen Voerman," he started, and I felt a stone settle in my stomach. "For the entire duration of our... private reunion she conducted herself in a fairly... peculiar manner."

"What do you mean?" I asked, as a reflexive burn washed in my stomach: I did not have any gastric acids left, but, even after two years I still reacted psychosomatically, to a certain extent. Could it depend on my humanity?

"I feared she might be hostile, perhaps remembering our little play. In actuality, it was quite the opposite: she was… particularly tame, nearly subservient and regarded me in an uncharacteristic fashion," he explained, and I clutched the arm of my chair, grateful I was not holding the flute: I would have shattered it. I was an imbecile, and I knew I would face retribution, but withholding what I knew would mean risking even more, possibly my un-life, when the Regent would stumble on the truth at a later time. And I was certain that he would, since "Therese and Jeanette" were as stable as a two-legged table.

"And yet, she was remarkably importunate in soliciting my presence to the opening of an Art Exhibition she is patronising. It might be partially ascribed to an attempt at fawning for favours, but I sense that I am missing some vital clue," he trailed off, piercing me with his eyes, and I did not need him to finish the phrase to know what he was asking for.

"Yes, I was going to give you an explanation yesterday but there wasn't time," I began elucidating, taking a big breath. "I do not know how many Kindred are privy to this information: I stumbled on it by chance, while I was residing in Santa Monica and trying to persuade Therese Voerman to terminate the feud with Bertram Tung. I have never told a soul about this, since Therese threatened me with death if the word went out and I could not really afford to make myself such an enemy… To make it short, I got caught in the middle of a terrible argument between Therese and Jeanette, thus discovering that they are one and the same."

I had not wanted to let the Regent know about this, but now I did not have a choice. He would probably see it by himself soon enough and it was better not giving him any further reason for displeasure.

"A multiple personality disorder?" he half-asked, seemingly intrigued. "Several times I had wondered what branch of madness afflicted Voerman, besides her obvious denial of her true lineage… Please, go on."

"Yes, anyway, in the heat of the exchange, 'Jeanette' let it drop that her father had a habit of… of abusing 'Therese' when they were children."

"Are we talking about rape?" he asked, interrupting me and looking positively revolted.

"Yes."

"That explains 'Jeanette' Voerman's indiscretions," Strauss mulled over. "The Embrace must have merely augmented a pre-existent mental scarring."

"Yes. Still, her father is a figure that still holds a great influence over 'Therese', despite having presumably been dead for a long time," I said, purposefully withholding the fact that she had likely killed him. It was not certain, after all, and I did not have a death wish for myself. "She speaks of him with incredible devotion, bordering on worship, although at times it is laced by fear and even odium. When she has a fit, she usually reverts back to childhood, she is unreachable and forgets everything once it is over… Since you and her father share some physical traits, I thought the only solution was to make her face the one person whose authority she would recognize."

"Continue," he drawled and his tone brought a chill down my spine: he was getting it, and I was in deep trouble. I would have done better staking Therese and dragging her out of the room: why had I intervened, WHY? This was the worst time possible to anger Strauss.

"I am positive she has no cognisant memory of your… performance. After what you have told me, though, I am afraid it might have left an impression on her subconscious and that she might now be… projecting her feelings for her father on you, although unintentionally and without their original intensity."

I held my breath and almost shrank in my seat, as I saw his muscles tensing.

"Did you stop to consider the lasting effects of your actions, before instructing me to tamper with a Malkavian psyche?" he uttered in an even deeper tone of voice than his usual baritone and I felt as if a cotton pad had been stuck in my mouth.

"I… I based my decision on my past experiences with her and… I thought there would be none," I managed to stutter, my voice failing me. "I am truly mortified, but it was an emergency and…"

I gasped as I felt something slicing the air all around my head: I froze as I realised that my unused kitchen knives were hovering all around my body, their sharp points aiming at me.

"**This** is an emergency," Strauss murmured gravelly. "In the future, unless I am confronted with an equivalent life or death situation, I trust that you will refrain from taking a gamble which could have unpredictable repercussions on my existence before acquiring my authorization. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly, sir," I breathed, as the knives drew back and flew to their rightful place, steeling myself to avoid the humiliation of shaking uncontrollably. The message was crystalline and inwardly, besides the terror, I almost felt some admiration for his style.

"It is… fortunate that the benefits gained from having such an exclusive influence on a Malkavian Primogen will indisputably outweigh the aggravating drawbacks," he said calmly, leaning back on his chair, as if nothing had happened. "I wondered if you truly had had the presence of mind of planning that far ahead, but it appears that it was merely a providential twist of fate. Still, even if it played in my favour this time, I cannot afford my associate to rely on chance."

So he was not really angry, he merely wanted to make a point and give me a "warning" for the future. If this were the case, I really did not want to discover what his actual wrath was like: he could have killed me without me even realising it, and I wasn't even able to start imagining to what extent his powers went. Thaumaturgy was a discipline enshrouded in darkness, I had heard Tremere could do many different things involving blood, but it was hard to distinguish legends from truth. I had seen a Sabbat Tremere producing flames, so that was also a possibility… And now I knew they could use some kind of telekinesis… What else lay in store?

"I apologise, sir, I promise it will not happen again," I replied, bowing as much as I could while being seated.

"Apology accepted, and I trust you will keep your word," he drawled, pouring himself some more blood, the implications of the contrary palpable in his undertone. "I do not put the blame on you directly, Irene, but on LaCroix's inadequate teachings and his penchant for impulsiveness. I appreciate your talent to trust your instincts in desperate situations, but I want you to always be able to evaluate the gravity of the problem and if there is room for a safer solution or for delaying it, before resorting to drastic measures."

"I understand," I replied, knowing that he was right. It was ironic, since I usually overanalyzed things myself, but probably LaCroix's "training" had affected me more than I cared to admit. When given an unspoken order, I had just jumped to find an immediate solution, since that would have pleased my former boss. Almost a reflexive reaction.

"Hence, I shall provide you with the proper tuition, in view of the fact that I would like for our collaboration to continue for the years to come," he declared, and, as much as I had expected it, after what had just happened, I hadn't been that certain anymore.

"There is no need to be surprised, Irene, excluding this… faux pas, your conduct throughout this crisis has exceeded my expectations, by far. Unlike LaCroix, I evaluate the whole picture before making a decision, and it would be irrational to deprive myself of such a valuable associate. You are green but possess the potential to aim for greatness: you merely need time and an accurate guidance. I can offer you both," he trailed off, sipping on his flute, probably to emphasise the point. A slap and a caress, I mentally noted with an internal smirk: some methods were simply universal.

"Offering me time? What do you mean?" I asked, baffled. It could simply be a euphemism for "I'll let you live", but something in his tone suggested that it was more than that. It was not meant to be threatening.

"To attain a higher position in our ranks, timing is as vital as abilities and connections. Being at the right place, at the right moment, given that vacancies in power do not occur frequently, except in periods of great instability, as it has been the case here in Los Angeles. Although your contribution has been crucial in solving this unpleasant incident, you are now unable to directly harvest the fruits for yourself. If I am elected Prince, with Cutteridge 'on my side', for the duration of my reign you will have the opportunity to complete your preparation and interweave beneficial relationships with the most influential members of your Clan. With your Primogen's _willing contribution_, I will make a true Ventrue out of you," he said with a half-smile, and I could not help but chuckle at the irony of it all. After two years spent under THE Ventrue of LA, who had blatantly ignored granting me with the required tutoring and introduction to my Clan, it would be a Tremere, of all people, to try to amend to my anomalous condition. And again, the question rose in my chest: what did he gain from this? What did he expect in return? There was some long-term plan in his mind, of that I was sure.

"What is more, when and if I deem you ready, should I still be in charge and the Primogen of your Clan under my control, I could ensure you an… opening for a prestigious role," he continued, placing the glass back down. Ok, where was the catch?

"In exchange, I expect fealty, dedication, integrity and, above all, for you to be forthright with me during our private reunions: I require a trustworthy and lucid assistant, not an obsequious puppet. I think your mind is your greatest asset and I do not want to risk contaminating it with… unnatural emotions and urges. For this reason, I shall not force a Blood Bond upon you, even though it is a common practice in my Clan. I can assure you though that I have other… extremely effective means to verify your continued loyalty. My trust is neither easy to gain nor to lose, but once it happens, it is as irretrievable as the consequences it will bring down upon yourself."

I was extremely relieved to hear the Blood Bond was not contemplated, and I had to stifle a laugh: he was probably already too worried about surviving Therese's newfound… sentiments without taking the chance to have me acting like a lovesick puppy. As for the rest, it did not come as a surprise and the conditions were more or less equivalent to those imposed by LaCroix, with the difference that here I wouldn't have to pretend to be an idiot and I would actually be gaining something for myself, most especially the knowledge and connections I so desperately needed and lacked. I knew the Regent wanted to exploit me for his own agenda, and I did not trust him entirely, but at least I could try to make the most out of this situation. Even in the worst case scenario, thanks to the experience gained, I would have more chances at surviving on my own than I did now. Besides, it was not as if I had much of a choice: I was too involved in this situation, starting with the blackmail to Cutteridge, and I needed the Regent's protection, at least for the near future.

"I understand, Max. I thank you for this opportunity, and I gladly accept your terms, since it is the way I like to do business myself," I replied with a smile.

"Perfect. Just allow me a final word of warning: I have always appreciated your discretion… The fact that you have never attempted to enquire or pry into Tremere secrets and affairs has not gone unnoticed. I trust that this quality will not waver in the future."

"I know my place, and I can assure you that I have no intention of overstepping my boundaries."

"Excellent. I think that the occasion calls for a toast, to this … partnership of ours," Strauss proclaimed, refilling our glasses. "May this be only the beginning of a long and fruitful association."

"Prosit," I responded, as we let our glasses make a brief contact.

"How far does your knowledge of my mother language reach, Irene?" he asked with an amused smile.

"More than far enough to handle a toast, I would hope," I retorted, eliciting a chuckle from him. It was hard thinking that this was the same man who had previously threatened to turn me into a pincushion. Feeling comfortable in his presence was way too easy for my liking, and I needed to remember myself constantly to keep my guard up. We were bound to get more… familiar in the future, and this would only heighten the probability of letting my defence slip at some point. I would need to tread carefully.

"Sunrise is approaching, it is time for me to return to the Chantry," he murmured, looking at his watch. I simply nodded, raising to accompany him to the door.

"The Conclave for the election of the new Prince will be in three nights at the Nocturne Theatre. I urge you to visit Golden, Voerman and Valdez before then," he reminded me, stepping out of my apartment.

"Sir, how do you want me to act with Therese? I think she might have an interest in the nature and closeness of our… affiliation, for reasons she probably does not even realise herself," I asked, since I did not want to risk his wrath again, or Therese's, or, worst, both.

"I am pleased that you have raised this question. Act as you normally did in your previous dealings with her, I doubt she will dare to enquire directly. Should she attempt an oblique questioning, I pray you to subtly convey the fact that we merely share a strictly formal business deal," he murmured, and I thought that it shouldn't be difficult stating the simple truth. Still, with a Malkavian, complications were bound to occur.

"Of course, Max."

"I shall see you at the Conclave, until then, good luck on your endeavours."

I thanked him and half-bowed in reply, as I watched him disappearing beyond the elevator door. I lost no time in following his instructions, arranging the appointments with the Primogen. Therese would come first: better take this problem off my head as soon as possible, besides I had the impression she would not exactly appreciate having to receive me after I had gotten through Golden's quarters.

As I was about to turn off the computer, a new message came in. Sighing and half-expecting it to be from Therese, I opened it, but it came from an unknown sender, with no text, just a picture which was still loading. Since only a handful of people had my address, I was going to delete it as spam, but I stopped dead in my tracks as I realised what the subject matter of the image was: a simple postcard of the Liberty Statue with the slogan "Greetings from NY" printed in a brilliant white.

It was probably just a mistake, or a coincidence, I tried to convince myself, as the apparently innocuous item seemed to mockingly glare at me from the screen. The only problem was that I had never believed in coincidences.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: A transitory chapter, to set some thing****s for future times. Next one will be full of events and then… the story will enter its second phase, so to speak.**

**Sorry for the delay, but I do not have much free time these days, and i****t was difficult balancing the amount of information shared by Strauss to avoid giving away his future plans and designs both for him and for Irene, hope I managed to. Besides, I needed to proof check the chapter some more with a fresh head before releasing it.**

**An enormous**** thank you to sister-b, Topska and Loving Companion Cube for reviewing the last chapter, it really means a lot.**

**Thank you to all the silent readers, old and new!**

**Finally, as always, a special thank you to Loving Companion Cube for all the support and precious information on the World of Darkness.**


	9. Goodwill Ambassador

**Chapter 9: ****Goodwill Ambassador**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

* * *

I had never particularly liked to go clubbing as a human, first of all because I felt the music was too loud, and, when I went out with friends, I wanted to be able to talk to them without tearing my lungs out. Secondly, clubs were usually so crowded that you could not even really dance, you just barely managed to stand up and move your arms – slightly – most of the time. Ok, that was probably for the best, since my dancing prowess bordered on the embarrassing side.

Therefore, the loud music of the Asylum did nothing to improve my mood, as I made my way through the crowd to reach the bar. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my shoulder and I prayed that it wouldn't be one of those half-drunk patrons who just would not hear no as an answer: I couldn't even take advantage of the occasion to drink their blood, since I had to keep my lucidity, besides they mostly were not of my taste. Luckily, it turned out to be Knox.

"Hey, there! Long time no see!" he yelled at my ear and I nodded with a polite smile.

"Yes, have been… quite busy…" I shouted back, asking myself what he wanted, or better, if Tung were involved.

"Heard there's gonna be a really big gig Downtown." So he wanted to ask about the Conclave, too bad for him that I wasn't a stumbling newbie anymore.

"Ah, yes, the Muse in concert! Did not know you were a fan," I replied with an innocent grin. "Listen, I am running late for an appointment and I really have to go. It was nice seeing you again, send my regards to your boss!"

Ignoring his protests I got the attention of the barman, who, wordlessly, indicated me he had opened the elevator. I quickly slipped through the crowd and beyond the sliding door, pushing the up button. It came to stop with a clang and I readied myself, reflexively smoothing some crinkles on my skirt. I knocked lightly and Therese's haughty voice told me to come in.

"Primogen Voerman, it is a pleasure seeing you again. I apologise for yesterday night."

Better being courteous and thread carefully, since if I messed this up I would make myself two extremely powerful enemies.

"Please, take a seat," she gestured curtly, and I complied, although the wooden chair seemed designed to be uncomfortable. "It has been a long time since your last visit, even though I hear that you still come to Santa Monica, from time to time."

"Yes, mostly for brief commissions. Nothing I felt I should dare to disturb you with… After all, with your key role in the Camarilla, you must be terribly busy," I replied with my most gentle tone, inwardly even more annoyed. Did she really expect for me to announce every little single visit of mine into her "domain"? She was not even a Baron anymore, and this was Camarilla territory, under jurisdiction of the Prince.

"Indeed, my position is exceedingly demanding… so many Kindred are depending on me. But it is the mission of my Clan, to bear the burden of these responsibilities. You will understand one day, if you are lucky enough to reach my level," she replied pompously, practically looking down on me. Had it been anyone else, I would have been slightly offended, but I was simply amused: she really wouldn't get over this Ventrue act. I wondered how she could justify it to herself that she was the "Malkavian" Primogen, or perhaps nobody had ever dared to address her clan openly; then, how did she explain Cutteridge's presence in the Council? Maybe she had convinced herself that he was the Malkavian Primogen. The possibilities were endless.

"Of course: you are a true inspiration, Primogen Voerman. I hope I will manage to be even half as accomplished as you are," I said amiably, in full suck-up mode. Dealing with her was very similar to dealing with LaCroix when he was in charge, only that he was less mad… No, actually it was practically the same, the only difference was that he did not have a "Jeanette". The image of LaCroix's playboy, dissolute "twin", ruffled hair and dressed in a half-unbuttoned shirt, filled my mind and, despite the seriousness of the situation, I had to use all of my willpower not to burst into laughter. I tried to imagine how he would call him, something like Jean Luc, probably.

"You seem to have an aptitude for getting yourself close to the man in charge, so I would say you have good possibilities," she replied with an undertone that reminded me of when she was dealing with Jeanette.

Ok, this was insulting, plain and simple, and I dug my nails hard in the palm of my hidden hands to keep myself from showing it, or worse, from letting out the witty comeback that was rolling on my tongue most temptingly. To hear such a thing from the Kindred whose "sister" had gotten around to "know" (in the biblical sense of the word) half the male population of LA, it was ironic to say the least. My rational side provided that the fact that she was so openly hostile, when half of the Council right now seemed to want to get in my good grace, it had to mean that her "feelings" for Strauss were clouding her political judgement quite intensely. If I were able to prove to her I was not a "rival", but the exact opposite, I wouldn't have to worry about her anymore. The Regent would deal with her, I did not want to risk interfering more than I already had.

"Close?" I chuckled, trying to convey how ludicrous that idea was. "If there is one thing I do not enjoy, Primogen Voerman, it is intimacy. Emotional attachments are irrational and distracting, not to mention an unnecessary hindrance. But I guess I am preaching to the converted, since your detachment from… human sentiments is one of the reasons why I have always admired you."

Flattery, reassurance and a jab all in one: I was quite proud of myself. Let her squirm and struggle with the impropriety of her emotions for the Regent, while making her believe I was oblivious to them. It would be relieving for Strauss (and less embarrassing) if she did not wear them on her sleeve. Moreover, the fact that she saw them as a dirty secret would only give him more leverage on her, with fewer drawbacks.

"Of course, such weaknesses are unworthy of a Ventrue, we gladly leave the burden to those debauched Toreadors," she replied, her nose up in the air, but I knew I had hit her, although she was quite good at concealing it.

"Indeed, it is one aspect of Kine condition that I truly do not miss… But I do not want to waste your time discussing these trivialities and I know that you like to get straight to the point, so… Why did you want to see me?" I asked, thus reinforcing my ignorance and the impression that my latest assertions were merely coincidental and not purposefully laid out.

"I am sponsoring an exhibition at the local Art Gallery, opening next week," she explained impassively, handing me some pamphlets. The theme was _"The duality in nature"_ and I bit my lip not to smirk. Well, at least it did not scream "I am Kindred" as the one I was tricked into sabotaging, but it still was quite revealing. The self-destructive side of her would always emerge, evidently.

"It seems like an interesting project, although I am not much of an art connoisseur."

"Yes, we should not deprive Toreadors of their only field of competence, besides the aforesaid licentiousness," she remarked with a smirk and I chuckled at her joke, although a blind man in Nevada would have seen it coming. "I could not care less about the paintings, truth to be told, but wealthy Kine investors like to boast their sophisticated philanthropy, even if most of them could not distinguish a Picasso from a Van Gogh."

I honestly smiled at that, it was a bit exaggerated, but I had met quite a few people in my life who would fit the description, most especially spoiled heirs who usually ended up dilapidating their inherited fortune faster than they could… spell Van Gogh.

"Since the security at my last exhibition turned out to be… lacking, I would like for you to oversee the opening, discreetly," she concluded with what was supposed to be a polite smile. Did she really think I had time or will to play security guard for her? I was not the new Kid off the block anymore. Or was it all a ruse to attract Strauss to the event? Or maybe…

"I am working for Primogen Strauss now, so it would be ill-mannered of me to accept extra assignments without asking for his approval first," I clarified as gently as I could, to convey the fact that I was truly sorry – as if . From her expression I knew that this was the info she was aiming to get, and I gladly let her think that she had subtly managed to steer the conversation where she wanted. It was my occasion to execute the Regent's order and pass on the message.

"This did not seem to be a problem with LaCroix," she observed flatly.

"Yes, but the Regent's way of conducting business is very different from LaCroix's, quite thankfully, and I am still adjusting… so to speak," I purposefully stumbled, trying to imply uncertainty and some discomfort about the situation.

"How different?" she asked casually, as if she were completely uninterested and merely enquiring on a whim.

"In a good sense, really. I mean, with LaCroix there was a great degree of affectation… To tell you the truth, I was extremely uncomfortable with the whole step-Sire role he played, despite knowing that it was merely a charade… With Strauss it is quite the contrary: he treats everything as a simple contract, with rules and clauses and… we do not have to act as if we cared about each other. It is truly refreshing and it saves time," I said with a smile and in my best laid-back tone. She had met me when I was a rookie, and she could not know exactly how much I had improved since then. Let her believe I was playing in her hands.

"I see… Well, then I will wait for the Regent's decision on the matter," she stated pensively: now that she had gotten what she wanted, the rest was insignificant and she was not that good at masking it. Although it had to be said to her credit that I knew what to look for, so she had been at a disadvantage from the beginning of our conversation.

"Yes, I am truly sorry for this impediment," I trailed off, outwardly conflicted. "I would not dare to speak on his behalf but, well… If I may make an educated guess, I believe that, seeing as it is a request from an esteemed Primogen and ally, he will go out of his way to be of assistance."

With the election in two nights, Strauss needed Voerman's support, so I knew that he would not deny her a favour now, even if it were barely more than a pretext. It was the main reason why he had insisted that I visited the various Primogen before the Conclave, after all: I was to be the goodwill ambassador. Besides, I could sense that it would be my problem to solve, although security was not exactly my area of expertise. I knew a few Kindred who could help, though, and… one favour more, one less, it did not make much difference in the net of debts and credits that was the un-life.

I was rewarded with Therese's first genuine smile since… since forever, probably, and there was something childish in it that made me feel a lump in my throat. Never mind the insults, or the aggravation: she would be like putty in the Regent's hands, and a part of me could not help but feel sorry for her. Another part, though, was extremely satisfied for a work well done: our world was ruled by natural selection, and empathy was a luxury I could not afford to indulge in frequently

"Very well, then… You may take your leave," she proclaimed, regaining her composure and blank expression, as she scanned some paperwork. Back to the Ventrue portrayal, but the brusqueness was more than welcome, since I still needed to head to Hollywood. I merely nodded and half-bowed, wasting no time in making my exit.

* * *

My trip to the Warrens had gone pretty well, all things considered. Mitnick had gloated for a bit about his help during the climb of the tower, showing me some of the footage, for good measure. It was a weird sensation, seeing myself in action, although he had purposefully focused on the "funny" parts (basically those where I looked like an idiot). Then he had entrusted me with a few more webcams and requested me to wire some other buildings, saying he would give me detailed instructions by mail. I told him too that I would need to speak with the Regent first: I did not want to risk interfering with his plans, and it was better to be safe than sorry. Gary basically wanted to stress how much his support during the Council and at the Conclave was going to cost the Regent, while having some more fun at my expenses with some variations of his disappearing act, which was getting quite old, nevertheless. He entrusted me with an envelope to give to Strauss personally, and I decided that there was no way in hell that I was going to bring that thing in my apartment, whatever it may contain; plus I really needed to report my activities to the Regent.

Therefore, hoping my clothes had not absorbed the… unique aroma of Gary's quarters, I made a brief stop at the Chantry, but, as I turned the corner, I was intercepted by an unknown female Tremere. Long dark brown hair, mocha coloured skin and sunglasses, coupled with a long trench coat, she could have rightfully belonged in the film "The Matrix".

"Irene Wilson, I suppose," she addressed me flatly, and I nodded.

"And you must be Alexandra, I am afraid I do not know the surname," I replied with a polite smile, recognising her from the voice and being rewarded with a surprised look. Let her wonder how much exactly I knew about her, when in reality it was practically nothing.

"Carrington, Alexandra Carrington," she clarified and it was my turn to be surprised because it sounded familiar.

"You wouldn't happen to be that gifted nuclear physicist who worked at the MIT and suddenly disappeared some… ten years ago…" I asked, suddenly realising how fast the time had passed. I had been a fresher and the news had been the talk of the campus for months.

"That would be me, yes," she confirmed and I could detect an hint of wistfulness. Something I could identify with perfectly. "How do you know?"

I explained it to her and how my Embrace had basically lead to the same situation, although here at UCLA.

"I would never have imagined someone like you were a scholar, although in Economics," she murmured haughtily and I held a sigh: I was used to be looked down upon by other categories of scientists. Our field, being a mixture of many things and considered quite "mundane", was not deemed as perfect and worthy as theirs. Some went as far as claiming it was not really a science. To some extent I had to agree with them, deep down: their rules were far more set and definite, since we basically studied something as fickle as human behaviour, but it was still annoying, especially when we were now no more than a Tremere and a Ventrue youngsters.

"Well, it is not a common knowledge, besides my field of work has been quite… different… in the last two years," I provided, and I could see that I had uncovered a raw spot for her too. "For a physicist the existence of something like Vampires and, basically, magic… it must have been a blow."

She did not respond, but I knew I had hit jackpot: all the certainties on which a life had been based torn asunder in a moment. All that time, trying to prove that science could explain everything, even the essence of life and death… seemingly wasted, when a Tremere could bend and make a fool out of the rules her former myths and mentors had devoted their entire existences to study and formulate. In retrospective, there was not so much to feel superior about: we had all been oblivious pawns in a game that encompassed the entire world.

"I am here to see the Regent," I explained, to interrupt the awkward silence.

"He is busy at the moment, if you want me to relate a message," she trailed off and I could sense curiosity and perhaps a trace of hostility.

"I thank you for your offer, but I had specific instructions to speak with him directly, and only with him," I replied with my friendliest smile, trying to convey that it wasn't something personal.

"Then, you will have to come back at some other time," she drawled expressionless, and I was about to insist when the Regent's voice interrupted us. He emerged from behind a corner, with no one but Cutteridge himself in tow.

"It is all right, Alexandra, as you can see I am free now, if you would accompany Primogen Cutteridge to the door… Irene," he said with a smile, gesturing for me to follow him. Before doing so, I exchanged a brief greeting with Cutteridge, who looked even more sickly white than usual, his demeanour dejected, compared to the pompousness portrayed at the Council.

"I see you have met the Neonate Apprentice of our Chantry," Strauss said lightly, closing the door behind us.

"Yes, well, we did not have much time to get acquainted," I trailed off, not really knowing what to say about her. The fact that Strauss still called her a Neonate, after ten years, had to mean that she had yet to prove herself. That made me think that, ever since LaCroix's deposal, he had not used that appellative with me again. Was it just a coincidence?

"And yet I would say that you have lost no time in assessing her and putting her in her place," he commented with a chuckle and I felt embarrassed.

"I… that was not my original intention, I was…"

"It is not a problem, on the contrary, Alexandra needs to face reality… She is still clinging to her mortal life and cannot overcome the fact that she might have been a genius but… as a Childe… she has been a letdown. It is a wonder she survived her training without committing suicide, she was bordering on madness," he explained, while heaving a sigh and pouring some blood for us.

I did not know what to reply, lest I offended Strauss if she were his Childe. But the Regent did not seem the kind of person to Embrace someone like her without foreseeing that she might not recover from the shock. Still, if Imalia, for example, had managed to adapt to her new "life" (and even myself, truth to be told), it was testament to the fact that the less likely of people could have the instinctive ability to endure.

"Her Sire was an… associate of mine, not to mention the Regent of Boston, who died during the recent… bout of madness on the East Coast," he elucidated, as if reading my mind. "After his demise I felt obligated to take Alexandra under my wing, although I had repeatedly warned him about the risks he was taking with selecting someone with her background, no matter how brilliant she was. We usually elect to choose scholars who are… open to the prospect of the occult, or at least neutral, and even with these precautions, a lot of them do not survive the training."

"I see," I timidly replied, surprised that he was sharing even this tiny bit of insight in his clan's affairs, but, after all, these rules were simply good sense, and something I had expected myself.

"Since we are on the topic, I would like for her to second you on some of the less… demanding assignments you might receive. She could learn a lot from you."

I wondered if it were not a way to monitor me: for all I knew, Alexandra could be a prodigy Tremere too, and this all a subterfuge. Still, if she were that capable, the Regent would not have needed me as a collaborator, right?

"Max, with all due respect, wouldn't this just put more salt on the wounds? I mean, being ordered around by a Sire-less two year old, belonging to the historically rival clan…" I enquired, taking a sip of the blood and being assaulted by an exquisite taste. Probably the best I had ever had the pleasure to drink.

"It might give her the drive she needs to react. I cannot keep her hidden here forever: it is time for her either to take her flight or to..." he trailed off, bringing the flute to his lips. There was no need to finish that sentence.

"In that case, I might already have a suitable, although not particularly pleasant, task in my hands, if you agree with it, of course," I explained, proceeding to recount him the events of the night, starting with my visit to the Asylum.

"Well played, Irene, well played… I will call Voerman to let her know I will organize the security of her event personally. It is a necessary evil but it could be the perfect occasion for you to supervise Alexandra," he pondered rubbing his forehead. "I am afraid I will not be able to avoid attending myself."

"I fear so too," I said with an amused smirk, not that I could blame him for the lack of enthusiasm. "For what it is worth, _A trouble shared is a trouble halved_: we will all have to suffer through it. By the way, did you know that the theme is _The duality in nature_?"

I was rewarded by another round of heartfelt chuckles, as he poured me some more blood, which I sincerely complimented. I took the occasion to relate to him of my visit to the Warrens, of Mitnick's request and I gladly handed over Gary's envelope, feeling a lot lighter.

"In view of the fact that these buildings hold no strategic interest to me, and that it is better not to have any open obligations with Nosferatus, you may proceed this once. But I would like for you to avoid going on the front line and taking the inherent risk, unless the mission has crucial implications. You are not an expendable Neonate anymore," he explained, and I felt a wave of relief in knowing that I was finally above the status of "war meat". That did not mean I would not be assigned to dangerous tasks every now and then, but at least I would not be putting my head on the line every night for mundane reasons.

"All right, Sir… Before I forget again, I have to return this," I said, taking off the Tremere pendant and placing it down on the table.

"Very well, you are free to go. You do know how to reach Valdez's villa, yes?"

"He has given me the necessary indications. One last thing, this is my cell phone number," I explained, getting up and giving him a card. "Should you need to contact me more rapidly than with mails…"

He nodded and dictated me his own number, then I bowed and took my leave: time to get back to my haven and to some well-deserved rest.

* * *

I paid for the taxi ride as I stood in front of the tall wrought iron gate which hid from curious glances what I discovered to be a trademark Lower Bel Air Villa. Posh, concealed, prestigious and yet "modern": the perfect dwelling for the Primogen of all Toreadors. I gave up trying to calculate how much it was worth: this was one of the most exclusive residential areas in all the States.

After a small climb up an impeccably manicured lawn, complete with hedges, fountains and marble benches, I finally reached the patio. The front door opened and I was surprised when, instead of a butler Ghoul, Raoul Valdez himself stood at the entrance, his patent dazzling smile almost glowing in the darkness.

"Ms Wilson, I am pleased you could make it. I understand that these are hectic days for both Maximillian and yourself," he exclaimed with an even wider beam, if it were possible, bowing slightly to kiss my extended hand: a gesture that I had resigned myself to.

"Well, Primogen Valdez, how could I refuse such a cordial invitation from a man of your standing, not to mention an old friend of Primogen Strauss?" I replied with my most affable grin, as my cheeks started to hurt from the effort: in the last two nights I had been forced to smile so much that only a contestant at a beauty pageant could have surpassed my record. And she would have probably won the title of Miss Congeniality.

"Please, let us leave the formalities for official occasions, just call me Raoul," he entreated, closing the door behind me, as I felt a pang of uneasiness. Unwarranted friendliness usually meant trouble, besides, formalities were a reassuring barrier that worked both ways. Still, I was not in a position to refuse.

"Only if you call me Irene," I retorted amiably, while remembering the Gangrel Primogen comment about a Debutante Tea Party. I hoped he would not spend the whole night beating around the bush with social pleasantries and get to the point.

My hopes started crashing as he "entertained" me with a tour of the mansion and grounds, at least the parts open to visitors, including a lengthy commentary about his admittedly impressive art collection. Paintings seemed to be my nemesis these nights: I had nothing against them, and as a human I had liked visiting museums and galleries every now and then, but in this case they were just a part of a role-play, and I could not enjoy myself or relax until I knew what Raoul's motive was.

Finally, we reached a vine covered pergola by an enormous pool in the backyard and he gallantly took out a chair for me to sit down on, while I had to force myself not to roll my eyes. I wondered if this were his method to wear out opponents until they let their guards down: maybe some Kindred even felt at ease, or pampered by such a treatment.

He took out a bottle from an ice bucket, opened it and poured us the customary two glasses. I politely sipped on it: it was good, but it paled in comparison to the one offered by the Regent. It was probably a mere consequence of my preferences, rather than the objective quality of the vintage. Well, at least I had been able to feed for free lately, without having to going on a hunt: I should be grateful for these small mercies.

"You are… different from what I had imagined," he said at last, putting down his glass. "Not in a bad way, mind you," he added hastily after seeing my surprised expression and probably mistaking it for an offended one.

"Forgive me for asking, but, what do you mean?" I enquired, genuinely puzzled. Was it also a part of his distracting act? Because I had to admit that it was rather effective.

"Well, there have been plenty of rumours circulating about you and your… abilities… The fact that LaCroix kept you well-hidden only reinforced the speculations. It was hard making out the truth from the legends, and I was curious to see for myself," he explained with yet another smile and I felt irritation welling up in my stomach: I prayed he had not called me here merely to satisfy his curiosity. And then he had the nerve of acknowledging that the Regent and I were busy: of course, if I had to lose time providing a distraction for bored Primogen. Still, I was the Goodwill Ambassador, so I had to try and comply to his caprices, no matter how futile.

"Legends tend to be way more interesting than reality, I am afraid. There is nothing particularly exceptional about me, as you can see," I replied politely, taking another sip.

"No, that is not it, but… when you envision a Kindred capable of killing Bach, Ming Xiao and even the Sheriff… Let's just say that you look more like a politician or a businesswoman than a warrior… But I guess it was to be expected: you are a Ventrue, after all…" he trailed off, probably understanding that it did not come out too well, considering my Sire-less condition.

"Well, I am going to tell you my secret: I have a stunt double for action scenes," I jokingly retorted and his eyes went wide before he burst into laughter.

"I see why Maximillian is so fond of you: he has a penchant for wit," he said with what looked like a more honest smile.

"Fond is probably not the adjective I would use, but yes, he has a great sense of humour."

"Hope he is going to be able to keep his spirits up, if he is elected Prince. It is not going to be easy for someone like him, having the spotlight on himself. Us Toreadors and you Ventrues are more adept with public relations," he commented and I almost sighed in relief as I sensed that we were at long last getting closer to the real reason behind this meeting.

"I am sure Primogen Strauss is perfectly capable of handling the pressure: while the survival of the Camarilla is at stake, personal inclinations have to be set aside. Besides, he is not going to be alone, since he has friends like you, who he can count on," I purposefully said, giving emphasis on the last part. If he wanted a role, this was the perfect opening for him to come out in the open and say so: we had already lost enough time and I wanted to be back to my haven before sunrise. Still, I could not understand why he did not talk with Strauss directly: I guessed that Kindred simply could not be straightforward and this little dance was to be expected. Unless he thought that I had some leverage on the Regent, which was preposterous but… he was Toreador: they were prone to sentiments, and perhaps this could influence his assessment of my association with Strauss.

"I see he is already well-covered in the PR department," he chuckled, pouring us some more blood. "Still, should he need assistance in the more.. worldly corollaries of his position, I would be glad to lend a hand."

Ok, finally it was out. I was not sure, but could he be aiming to become the Seneschal? There were also other official roles, but I did not exactly see him as a Sheriff… he probably would have made a good Harpy, but was that position worth the trouble?

"I will let the Regent know about your… generous offer," I said, taking a few more sips.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed with a broad grin, lifting his own chalice.

From there on he merely engaged me in some more small talk, probably just for the sake of "subtlety", and, finally, he stood up to help me out of the chair. We strolled to the gate in silence, while I wondered how many gardeners it took to maintain such an unnatural perfection.

"I will see you tomorrow at the Conclave," he said, opening the gate and producing himself in yet another hand-kissing.

"Thank you for the hospitality," I replied, regaining control of my hand.

"It has been my pleasure, Irene, rest well."

As I waited for the taxi, I put down on paper the essential points of the meeting: calls and mails could be intercepted and this was sensitive information. I made a stop at the Chantry, dropped the folded paper in the Regent's apposite internal mailbox, which was probably more secure than Fort Knox and then rapidly headed to Skyline Apartments.

The sound of an incoming mail greeted me as soon as I opened the door: I ran up the stairs, but it was just the Regent, acknowledging the receipt of my note and thanking me for it. I breathed out in relief, as I was fearing something like the anonymous postcard that had been haunting my thoughts for the previous two nights. I had briefly considered talking to Strauss about it, but then immediately discarded the idea as ridiculous: even if it were from LaCroix, I had no proof about it, and I could not exactly disturb him with something like that. He would have taken me for an idiot.

Perhaps I should change mail address, just to be safe, and then… and then what? Phone number, magnetic lock… even the apartment, I thought with a chuckle. It was pointless: if he truly wanted to contact me, he would manage to, eventually, and I could not allow him to affect my un-life any further, otherwise he would have reached his purpose, if that mail had truly come from him.

He was out of my existence, and he could not touch me, I repeated in my head as a mantra, as I put on the most relaxing classical music CD of my collection. I took a shower and tiredly climbed into bed. Everything faded in time, more pressing worries would undoubtedly come my way… and his way, for that matter. Somewhat reassured, I snuggled in my pillow, as the notes of Chopin's _Nocturne Op.9 No.2_ lulled me into sleep.

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**A/N: ****So many things to write about: hope I was able to condense them without getting boring… next chapter will be full of events too, first of all the election of the new Prince.**

**An enormous thank you to sister-b, Loving Companion Cube, Olivia (my thanks to you for enjoying my story****, and for all the compliments!) and StrangeoneXD for your reviews: I am sounding trite, but your support is amazing and really keeps me going.**

**Thank you also to all the readers!**


	10. Power Rush

**Chapter 10: Power Rush**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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As soon as the doorbell rang, I rushed to open the door: it was Strauss, coming to pick me up to head to the Conclave together. Behind this logistical decision of his, there had to be some political message to get across, since my apartment was just a few steps away from Nocturne Theatre.

As soon as I met his eyes, I immediately sensed that he was different than usual, and not just because of his particularly formal attire (although Tremere's idea of elegance was always somewhat unconventional): he was probably tense, not that I could blame him. I had been feeling like a nervous wreck myself, ever since waking up from a night of absurd nightmares, and I was not the candidate for Princedom.

"Evening, Max," I murmured with a slight smile.

"Irene," he acknowledged me with a nod and a tired smile of his own. "May I come in? There are some matters I need to explain to you before we head to the Theatre, since walls have hears there."

I nodded in agreement, as I had wired the Theatre with Nosferatu's webcams myself. Apparently he deemed my apartment safer, I wondered if he had had it checked before allowing me to get back in.

"All the Primogen and Elders who are attending will have seats on the stage. I have reserved a place for you in the front row of the assembly," he quietly explained, after I closed the door behind him. "You will be seated at the side of Isaac Abrams."

"The Baron of Hollywood? Why?" I asked, honestly surprised by this choice.

"For the reason that you are on good terms with Abrams, after helping _him_ with that unfortunate Gargoyle problem," he said with a smirk and I chuckled at the irony of his words. Killing that blasted wall of stone had been a feat, even with the Regent's charm, but it had really paid off in the end, especially keeping my mouth shut about Strauss' involvement in the matter.

"That's true, but still… since I openly sided with the Camarilla, I do not know if he is going to be that thrilled to see me."

True: I had saved his precious Ash "I crave for attention and then I cannot handle it" Rivers, twice, plus I had helped out V.V... Maybe a little too much so, seeing as she now kept on sending me poetries that were not only a testament to the fact that not all Toreadors were artistically gifted, but also quite embarrassing, since I was not bisexual. Hell, I was practically not even "sexual" anymore: I had never been a particularly romantic or passionate type, but the last time I had felt… urges and feelings of a certain kind had been the night of my Embrace. And they could have been induced with Domination, so… Well, I just hoped V.V. was simply playing her role for favours… as most Toreadors did: in that case, I had no intention of bursting her bubble and letting her know that it was not effective, quite the opposite.

"Abrams is, on the whole, an intelligent man. In spite of his comprehensible revulsion for LaCroix, he was wise enough to avoid an all-out war and maintain a… tentative truce. I am sure that he will be even more… open to deal with someone who has helped his community on several occasions."

"I see… but, still, although he might not have liked LaCroix, I have reasons to believe that he is not particularly fond of Tremere, in general, and of you, in particular, either," I said as respectfully as I could.

"I am aware of it, and it is the exact reason why I need you to be the bridge between me and Abrams. During your service as LaCroix's agent, you have proved with actions, instead than mere words, that the Camarilla is useful and truly considers all Kindreds as its members, helping them out in their time of need, even if they have turned their backs on the organisation. I know that this has gained you a grudging respect from various members of the Anarchs, and I am sure that it still stands. You are young, Irene, you had a blood hunt on your head with the accusation of having killed their beloved leader… Abrams and the more reasonable members of the Anarchs will not begrudge you for coming to me, instead than risking a walk into the lion's den. You might have… ruffled their feathers a bit, but I am confident you are capable of smoothing them back in place, with some time and effort," he explained with a sly smile.

"So… you believe they will be willing to deal with me, thinking that I will play in their hands and be… exploitable, because of my youth? Maybe that there still might be a hidden Anarch soul, deep inside me?" I asked with a smirk of my own, appraising the possibilities.

"Precisely, but there is more than that… At least for the months to come, it is easy to foresee that you will have all eyes trained on you. Therefore, we might as well kill two birds with one stone. I want you to become the visible symbol of a Camarilla that goes back to its original purpose, not yet polluted by rampant ambitions."

"A symbol?" I half-asked, intrigued. So much for Tremeres not being adept at public relations, because this looked like an incredibly promising marketing idea. Truth to be told, I doubted there was a field that the Regent's mind could not grasp, if he set himself on it. "I see… I will reinforce the idea of change that your administration will embody, if you are elected… Going back to basics, but with a fresh outlook…"

"I had no doubt that you would grasp the potential, although this puts both of us in an extremely delicate position," he trailed off, seemingly expecting me to come up with the conclusions on my own.

"Symbols have to be above reproach… any mistake of mine will resonate and be amplified tenfold… Therefore they will bear repercussions not only on my _dignitas_, but most especially on your image, so I cannot afford public stumbles," I wrapped up, starting to realise why Strauss had been so adamant in setting his conditions and demanding careful pondering on my part before taking any action. Still, this was just a small element of a much greater design, I could sense it and, even with my best efforts, I was barely able to see the tip of the iceberg. The inner workings of the Regent's mind were far above my reach, he had probably already planned far ahead for the years to come, and I would have to rely on the scraps of information that he decided to share.

"Perfectly summarized, and I trust that it will never leave your mind. Before we go, a few practical indications: you have my authorisation to raise questions to the Conclave, but I recommend you to stay silent, unless asked to step up and talk. It is likely that someone in the assembly may request to interrogate you on the recent events: follow my lead and do not give out any more information than I will have already provided myself… perhaps make up or share some insignificant detail, deflect the question on safer topics, and act as you have thus far. As a general rule, silence is golden: if in doubt, do not speak and I will cover for you."

"Yes, sir. It is crystal clear," I replied with a smile. "You know, I had never noticed before how ironic Primogen Golden's surname is, considering the popular way of saying and the contrast to his… line of work."

That elicited a chuckle from Strauss, who looked slightly more relaxed: I realised that I felt less anxious myself. Probably discussing the practical details had helped exorcising the tension.

Without further ado, we left my apartment and were soon standing near the bus stop, waiting for the green light to signal we could safely cross the street. The customary prostitute, back propped against the bus shelter, kept on staring at us, as I tried to ignore her as much as I could.

"Hey hons, if ya lookin' for fun, I'm open for some… group action," she drawled in what was supposed to be a seductive purr, winking at Strauss who looked positively flabbergasted. Luckily the light at last turned green and we marched forward ignoring her scurrile shouts, as the Regent lost no time in opening the front door of the Theatre and prodding me inside.

"I am sorry you had to be subjected to such a… demeaning display," he murmured with some discomfiture and I had to stifle a laugh: he really did not go out on the streets much these days. That was one of the main problems of the Camarilla: those who ruled it were far detached from the reality the vast majority of Kindred lived in. On the contrary, being streetwise and "reachable" were the strong points of the Anarchs. Still, Strauss seemed to be perfectly aware of this, and his idea of making a "symbol" out of me would also serve the purpose of giving the masses a more "accessible" and tangible manifestation of his ruling.

"I have seen much worse, do not worry," I replied lightly, and it was the absolute truth, in more than one sense. It was a testament of the period Strauss had been raised in that he felt compelled to "protect" me from something like that, while he had no qualms about violence, torture, murders. Truth to be told, it was an idiosyncrasy that still lived on in many levels of our "modern" society.

The Regent did not reply, seemingly lost in thoughts, as he made his way through the well illuminated auditorium to the stage, where most of the Primogen were already gathered, together with other Kindred who had to be Elders, considering their countenance and how the Primogen were all smiles and obsequiousness while talking to them.

"Ah, if it isn't Maximillian, our man!" said Valdez, with the usual face-splitting grin, as everybody turned around to face and acknowledge the Regent, who, in turn, stepped on the stage and proceeded to the customary round of greetings and pleasantries.

As I quietly headed to the front row, though, their eyes focused on me and I bowed as a general greeting, grateful for the fact that Kindred could not sweat: I felt like the proverbial fish out of water, or better, like a little fish accustomed to living in a bowl, that had been suddenly dropped out in the open ocean.

"May I introduce Irene Wilson?" Strauss provided, gesturing to me, and I straightened myself back up. I was simply astonished to discover that, judging by their reactions, my name seemed to be well-known to all the Elders in attendance. Rumours travel fast, indeed.

"Miss Wilson, we meet at last," said an austere looking lady, who exuded an air of ancient nobility: a Ventrue Elder, without doubt.

"Being in your presence is a great honour, milady," I replied, bowing again, deeply, and then straightening myself fully, my back hoisted in my best dignified stance, meeting her icy blue eyes. They seemed to be piercing through me, but I did not waver.

"Primogen Cutteridge has extensively narrated us of your achievements," she finally stated, looking at the man himself, who, in turn, was regarding me in a way that, by an external spectator, would have probably been defined "warm", for his standards. This had to mean two things: firstly that LaCroix really had some good dirt to dig on him, and the Regent had been very proficient at exploiting it; secondly, that Cutteridge could be an excellent actor, when his life and _dignitas_ were at stake. I was truly relieved that Anne MacKenna had not arrived yet: it did not take a genius to imagine what she would have been dying to say.

"Aldrich, I trust that we shall have the occasion to better acquaint ourselves with Miss Wilson during the upcoming gathering."

What gathering was she talking about?

"Most certainly," Cutteridge replied with a smile: he should give up on doing it, really, more than gentle or pleased, he looked constipated… Aldrich Cutteridge… even the name sounded cold and foreboding, like a razor. It suited him.

I heard steps behind me and everyone's attention focused on the newcomer: Isaac Abrams, followed by V.V., actually clothed, for once, and a slightly tremulous Ash Rivers. His face had healed, his spirit evidently not, and I wondered if it ever would. His Childer slipped in two vacant places in the fourth row, V.V. not so subtly winking at me and… blowing a kiss to Strauss? Unexpectedly, this triggered a flashback of the night of my Embrace: I remembered her doing exactly the same, as he was standing on the gallery. Weird, what kind of ridiculous details the brain could store when you thought you were going to die: I had noticed them because of her strange hair colour and his… peculiar appearance. The Regent responded with so stern a glare that both Cutteridge and the Ventrue Elder's ones paled in comparison. Unsurprisingly, this only seemed to please V.V.: I wondered if there was a back-story to this, and decided that, for my well-being, I should better not try to find out.

I was brought back from my reverie as Abrams, after a perfunctory greeting to the Elders, approached me. It was time to play my part.

"Irene," he drawled expressionlessly.

"Baron Abrams, I am glad to see you again," I said with my best smile, adding in a lower voice: "And that Ash is alive and well, more or less."

"Me too," he replied with a strained smile of his own. Ash was his soft spot, and was indebted with me. I would not call him on it directly, but a subtle reminder, concealed behind concern, would serve the purpose.

"Perhaps you should pay _us _a visit one of these days," he suggested, and I got that the "us" included Rivers. Evidently he did not wish to discuss this in public, which was exactly what I wanted: a chance to tie the ropes of this bridge, privately.

"I will," I said, my attention getting caught by the Elders, who were getting seated: apparently they had all arrived, at last, and the Conclave would start soon. The auditorium was also getting quite full: I had never seen so many Kindred gathered together.

"We should probably get to our places," I said, heading for the chair which had a piece of paper with my name scribbled on it pinned on the back: Strauss was surely meticulous.

Abrams had just settled down, a bit reluctantly, at my right, when an unknown male Ventrue, looking to be in his mid-thirties, unpinned the note on the place at my left and settled himself down, without a word. As soon as his eyes fell on the nametag in my hand, though, he turned to me with an inquisitive expression.

"Richard Hopkins," he pronounced, indicating his own nametag, which only confirmed the obvious. "I am director of the personnel at Venture tower, well… at least for now."

"Mr Hopkins, it is a pleasure meeting you," I said with a smile, wondering why Strauss had placed him besides me, and, moreover, why he did not seem hostile, since his job was at stake because of me. What was to become of the LaCroix Foundation, with its namesake gone?

I had no time to ponder over this or to try to have some answers, though, because Strauss took a microphone from a small table and got to the centre of the stage, raising his hand to request silence. I decided that the fact that he was heading the debate had to be a good sign, or so I hoped.

"My fellow Kindred, I thank you for your attendance and participation at this Conclave…" he started speaking, easily commanding attention. "...That represents a turning point for our community, seeing as tonight we are going to elect the new Prince of Los Angeles."

The audience started murmuring as the rumours that LaCroix had left his post found confirmation. A few hands raised in the assembly, asking for permission to raise a question, Isaac Abrams' included.

"Baron Abrams," Strauss said, gesturing for him to speak. Not wanting to give the Anarchs the pretext to claim they had been gagged?

"I think I speak on behalf of the whole assembly in asking to know what was of LaCroix and what happened in the last few nights," he declared, while practically everybody nodded.

"Yes, it is a fair request, in fact we had every intention of addressing this subject before proceeding with the election," the Regent replied unfazed. "In truth, we were extremely hesitant about sharing the details of the recent events… I am sure the reasons why will be clear in a moment. In the end, though, considering the unpleasant speculations which have spread through the city like a wildfire, we decided that it would be in the best interest of everyone involved, most especially of the absent, to dissipate any doubts and give a full report."

Strauss took a breath, as if pained, and started recounting the events, or better, the clever tale he had fabricated.

"This is the sad story of a Prince who, feeling betrayed by the person closest to him, attacked by the Anarchs who believed he were involved in their leader's murder, feeling his control on the Camarilla slipping because of his recent controversial behaviour and driven to desperation by the Kuei-Jin breathing on his neck, stumbled in a trap set by Ming Xiao, a shrewd Kuei-Jin Priestess," the Regent spoke in a lulling, almost hypnotic voice, although laced with heaviness and some discomfort.

"The night after the… incident in Griffith Park, disguising herself as Irene Wilson, Ming Xiao purposefully let herself be intercepted and followed by LaCroix's emissaries, making them believe that she – or better Ms Wilson – would spend a few nights in a shack on the outskirts of LA, waiting for the waters to still before contacting her Kuei-Jin allies," he continued in an even more solemn tone, looking in my direction. A lot of heads in the assembly did the same, and I could hear whispers.

"Providentially, I was in LaCroix's office when he received these news, since he had wanted me to… investigate with our methods, some of Ms Wilson's belongings, that he had recovered from her abandoned haven. The circumstances of her sighting sounded quite suspicious to me, not only because the whole story of Ms Wilson turning traitor had not convinced me from the beginning, but also since I believed that, had she truly been consorting with the Kuei-Jin, she should already have been hiding and well-protected in their headquarters in China Town. Before the blood hunt had been called, she had had ample time and opportunity to do so."

"Therefore, feeling this turn of the events was far too convenient to be true, I tried to repeatedly warn LaCroix against taking rash moves, but… sadly he did not heed my advices, probably because of our… not quite idyllic relationship. Unable to convince him, I finally resigned myself to head back to my Chantry, my steps heavy with worry. Imagine my surprise when nobody but Irene Wilson herself, the very woman who was supposed to be hiding in some hut on the other side of the city, appeared at my door, pledging her innocence and asking to hear her out. Knowing LaCroix and his… inclination to impulsiveness, she had not dared to go to Venture Tower directly. She claimed she had been framed by the Kuei-Jin, who had set a fire in Griffith Park to draw out the Werewolves: Mr Rodriguez had been attacked and dragged down the hill, while she had been chased for a few minutes, until she finally managed to get rid of her pursuer with a clever move. Unable to find Rodriguez, she had gone back to safety, only to discover that she had been accused of the most heinous of crimes."

More murmurs went through the audience, as the Regent took a pause and approached the place where Gary was seated.

"The investigative means at my disposal seemed to confirm her sincerity, which was unquestionably demonstrated when I received a call from Primogen Golden. He told me that he had finally been able to retrieve and watch the tapes from the security cameras at Griffith Park, which we had believed to have been destroyed by the fire. The Nosferatu assigned to recover them had vanished… we had assumed the worst, but he had just reappeared, a bit worse for the wear but nonetheless alive, bringing the tapes with him. I asked him why he was informing me of this, instead of the Prince, and he replied that he had tried to, but the receptionist had told him that LaCroix was not available for the night. Since he had reasons to believe that Ms Wilson had come to me…" he trailed off, while Gary confirmed his words with a nod and what was probably his idea of a smug smirk, though, considering the state of his mouth and lips, it was hard to tell. One thing was sure: Gary came out way better in the Regent's tale than in the original "take" of this story.

"Having ascertained Ms Wilson's innocence, the fact that LaCroix was unreachable fuelled my fears. I related to her of her supposed sighting by the Prince emissaries and we both came to the same alarming conclusion, as she confirmed Ming Xiao's talent at shape-shifting: she had turned into Nines Rodriguez in front of her own two eyes, in a rather clever attempt to sway her by her side, making her doubt her Prince and turning Kindred against each other. Ironically, Ms Wilson's integrity in warning LaCroix and exonerating Nines Rodriguez from Grout's murder, only served the purpose of planting seeds of distrust in his mind, which bloomed after the Griffith Park's incident."

I heard a few gasps from the audience, evidently they had now figured out what trap the Regent was speaking about. Strauss surely knew how to make up a story, detailed enough to be credible, but not too much so as to be suspicious: **"Excusatio non petita, accusatio manifesta"**.

"I tried to contact LaCroix myself, but received the same answer… Fearing that, blinded by fury and thirst for vengeance, he had walked into the lion's den, I summoned a few of my most trusted and valorous of men and headed to the location of this shack, instructing Ms Wilson to wait at the Chantry, since she still had a bloodhunt on her head and I did not wish to compromise our position."

"When we finally arrived there, a raging battle was in place: the Sheriff was surrounded by several Kuei-Jin warriors and, despite his ferocious fighting, appeared badly wounded. A few ghoul soldiers, dressed in full assault gear laid on the grass, seemingly dead, but neither LaCroix nor Xiao were anywhere to be seen. We tried to aid the Sheriff, but he had sustained too much damage and he collapsed and met his Final Death shortly after, with the meagre consolation of taking two Kuei-Jin down with him. Amidst the confusion, I spotted the aura of a ghoul soldier, hiding behind some shrubbery, severely injured. Luckily, he was still able to speak and explain me that LaCroix had never left the tower, changing his mind at the last minute. My worries slightly assuaged, I asked him if he had seen Ms Wilson or Ming Xiao, but he had not. The fact that she had not bothered to put in an appearance did not add up and I was hit by a dreadful presentiment, as what the receptionist had told me suddenly gained a new significance. LaCroix was not available for the night, yet he was still in the Tower and, more importantly, he was more vulnerable than usual, since his Sheriff and several members of his security had left…"

The entire assembly was hanging on his every word, as he took a breath and shifted his gaze between me and Primogen Golden. I wondered where he was heading with this story, to add all of these twists he surely had some purpose in mind.

"I realised that maybe we had been approaching this problem from the wrong side, as they say, if the mountain will not come to Mohammed, Mohammed will go to the mountain. I called Primogen Golden, telling him we were in an emergency and asking him if there had been any suspicious or peculiar movements around the Tower, especially regarding LaCroix or the Sheriff. After a few minutes he reported that LaCroix had apparently not moved from the tower, while the Sheriff had been seen leaving with a dozen of guards through the sewer entrance, but after a short time he had returned, this time with only three sentries in tow and had not left the building since."

Now the murmurs turned into full talk, as everybody had guessed what this meant, Strauss repeatedly called for silence and soon the comments dwindled down.

"I think it is evident to all of you who this second Sheriff was and for a moment I thought all hope was lost. I was miles away from Downtown, it would take quite some time for me to reach the Tower and, even then, I knew I would have to force my way through the security. Moreover, there was a high chance that the Prince was already dead. There was only one last, desperate option: I called the Chantry and rapidly explained the problem to Ms Wilson. She did not hesitate for a second and headed to the Tower, fully aware of the incredible risks she was taking and that she may lose her life to try and save the man who had put a death sentence on her head. Meanwhile, I did what was in my power: I rejoined the dwindling battle, helping my men killing the last Kuei-Jin and subsequently we headed at full speed towards the Tower."

This was pure genius: Strauss had built a story that explained the raid to LaCroix's headquarter and the traces it had left behind, in case some of the soldiers or the Ventrues suspected something or any security footage leaked out. The best lies were based on the truth, and I wondered if he was going to do something similar about my incursion at the Temple, especially considering that I had eliminated most of the Kuei-Jin. Could it be that other elements he had included in his tale had been based on real happenings and were hence verifiable with solid evidence too?

"Once we reached our destination, we had to silently sneak past a full platoon of ghouls in assault gear, and, from time to time, I could see some reassuring traces of Ms Wilson's passage. At long last, we reached the Penthouse: the antechamber was stained with blood and there were clear signs of a great struggle. Rushing to LaCroix's office, we found him lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood, a stake through his heart and brutally tortured. I took out the stake and asked him about Ms Wilson and Xiao whereabouts: although his whispers were barely perceptible, I gathered that she was supposedly fighting the Priestess in the Antechamber. I left one of my men to administer the first aid and, following the clues, we reached the rooftop just in time to see her dealing the final blows to a giant monster: Ming Xiao's ultimate form. I assisted Ms Wilson, who was shaken and exhausted, in returning to the Penthouse. LaCroix's injures were extremely severe, although he did not seem in immediate danger of death and, since his headquarters were clearly not secure anymore we decided to carry him to the protection of our Chantry for further examinations and treatments."

Silence enshrouded the Theatre, as my admiration and my fear of the Regent simultaneously increased tenfold: he had an explanation for everything, overturning any possible rumour in his favour. He did not even need his remarkable powers to be dangerous: his brain was truly his best weapon.

"While we were waiting for LaCroix to recover, we decided that it would be a folly not to seize this opportunity and give the Kuei-Jin a taste of their own medicine, since they had been beheaded and weakened. Ms Wilson infiltrated their alleged Temple, eliminating most of the remaining warriors. It is easy to foresee that they will send other delegations eventually, but, at least for the time coming, the Camarilla and all the Kindred population will benefit from some respite on that front."

I could hear exclamations of approval and relief, as Abrams was starting to twist on his chair and pull on his tie: this night was probably turning out to be very different from what he had hoped or imagined.

"At last, I was able to question LaCroix about his ordeal. He explained to me that Xiao, in her Sheriff disguise, had taken him by surprise and staked him before he could react. After that, she had impersonated him and called the receptionist, cutting off all outside connections, making sure he would not receive calls or visits and had tortured him in an attempt to extort the secrets of our community and our Kind. She was probably aiming to destroy us from within. He refused to comply, preferring an honourable death to betraying our Blood, but Xiao persisted and he tried to endure: fortunately Ventrues are extremely resilient. In the end, though, he could sense that Xiao was growing impatient and would soon finish him off, and it was then that Ms Wilson came to the rescue. Ming Xiao made one last attempt to persuade her to switch sides, offering her power and wealth, and… well, LaCroix assured me that the Priestess did not like to hear, or better… feel Ms Wilson's answer."

A few people in the assembly chuckled, and the Regent allowed himself a smile, but then his expression regained a sombre look.

"LaCroix healed relatively fast, from a physical point of view, but, as you can well imagine, the blow to his spirit was harder to withstand. We maintained a veil of secrecy to protect him and allow him time and space to take the necessary choices without pressures. In the end, he decided that he had had enough and did not feel up to the task anymore. Consequently he resigned from his post, perhaps to find greener pastures in… less contested and demanding territories. I will not give out further details on his wellbeing and on his personal decisions, in view of the fact that I believe that they are strictly private and of no concern for our community or pertinent with the reason for our gathering tonight."

I had to restrain a chuckle: he had basically hinted that LaCroix was not fit for the role, from the very beginning (and had even realised it himself in the end) and that he was a coward who had run away after creating a big mess he could not handle. Then he had added a coating of compassion to murk the waters a bit, but even by refusing to give up the details, he was implying that they would be extremely embarrassing for LaCroix. Abrams rolled his eyes and raised his hand, but we were all startled by a familiar voice, shouting on top of his lungs that this was all bullshit. I immediately knew who it was: he really had a liking for this particular swearword and, as I turned around, my intuition was confirmed. Nines Rodriguez was standing near the last row of seats, Damsel and Skelter restraining him: some things never changed.

There were several gasps and cries of surprise between the assembly, since Nines was still publicly believed to be dead. Despite the ruckus, I could hear Cutteridge and some of the Elders protesting with the Regent that this was not acceptable and that, since Nines had spoken without permission, he should be thrown out, but Strauss, apparently unperturbed, raised a hand and asked for silence.

"Ah, if it isn't our dear Mr Rodriguez, back to the land of the un-living and not a moment to soon, I would dare say," Strauss stated in his calmest of tone, a slight smile on his lips.

"Yeah, just in time to hear this pile of crap," Nines bellowed, and even from this distance I could perceive that his fists were clenched and he was fuming. "We all know that it was that fucking Napoleon wannabe who set up me and the kid, probably with the help of his buddy Eastern whore. They wanted to get rid of us Anarchs, as they did with our last leader, but we have nine lives and we know better than to buy these shitty excuses. Dunno what kind of power trip went down between you Cammies, how you kicked LaCroix outta LA or in what kind of dump he is now hiding his sorry French ass, but I can smell crap and your story stinks more than a dead sewer rat left out in the sun for a month!"

"As fond as I am of your sense of humour and flair for creative analogies, Mr Rodriguez, you are making some exceedingly severe accusations. I trust you are able to provide solid evidence to back up your claims, and to tell us exactly what happened in the last few nights," Strauss uttered, perfectly composed, with a raised eyebrow, despite the fact that Nines had hit so dangerously close to home.

"I… I…" Nines seemed hesitant, he probably had just head-charged without thinking it through, typical Brujah, although he was still more controlled than most members of his Clan. "Of course I don't! You've probably erased or hidden them in the same hole LaCroix's dug in, but I know I am right!"

"Mr Rodriguez, should we follow this line of _reasoning_, every single crime could be potentially pinned on the Camarilla, or on everyone else, for that matter. The fairies have destroyed the evidence," Strauss drawled in a mocking tone, as I could hear some snickers from the audience: Nines had many qualities, but logic and debate were not his strong points. He could make charismatic speeches, but in a verbal contradictory with a man like Strauss, he simply had no chances. Even Abrams had his head in his hand, probably to avoid seeing more of this disaster. Nines seemed to be ready to burst, and I hoped for him he did not do something foolish and that his friends would restrain him long enough: one wrong move now and he was dead meat.

"As I am seeing it, Mr Rodriguez, there is only one thing that is certain and irrefutable: the fact that you pretended to be dead for more than a week, when I have concrete proof that you were not in such terribly bad a shape when you left Griffith Park. I may understand the instinct to save your hide, but in order to preserve your personal safety you did not only almost get Ms Wilson killed, even though she had risked her reputation and her life to exonerate you from the bloodhunt on your head, but, more importantly, you put our entire community, not to mention our whole race in a terrible danger. Had you at least deigned yourself to let know you were alive and that Ms Wilson was not a traitor, we would not have risked to be annihilated by the Kuei-Jin. Unless, of course, that was your deliberate intent: letting us exterminate each others as you watched from the sidelines, hoping to regain power for yourselves," Strauss concluded, in a tone so harsh that it was chilling. I could not believe he had managed to turn the table against the Anarchs to this extent: he had taken a desperate situation for the Camarilla and transformed it in an occasion to discredit the Anarchs in front of the whole population. He was accusing them of the very same misdeeds that were at the core of their anti-Camarilla propaganda: putting their personal gains above the community's best interests and being blinded by their hunger for power.

The assembly erupted in frantic conversations, as Abrams visibly shrank in his seat and, looking at Nines and comrades, they seemed frozen on the spot. There was something about their demeanour that made me suspect that, perhaps, the Regent's allegations could actually be closer to the truth than I, and possibly even Strauss, had ever dared to imagine. This was extremely interesting, and something to explore at a later time. At long last the talk dwindled down and Strauss dealt his final blow.

"In this case, did you stop to consider that even if the Kuei-Jin defeated the Camarilla, afterwards they might have been perfectly capable of destroying your faction and the whole Kindred community of LA, for that matter? That they are numerous and have millions of Kine under their control ready to embark for our city, while your numbers are extremely limited? That without our help they would have already gained control of the City? How did you think it would be different this time?"

The protests and discussions in the assembly became even more animated, almost deafening. Abrams was now practically glowering at Nines and the others and he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like "idiots". I was sure he knew about Nines being alive, but perhaps he had not wished for him to draw this kind of attention on himself or to make his reappearance now. Suddenly the logistic arrangements made even more sense: I would not put it past the Regent to have foreseen that something of this sort would happen and to have been planning to create a rift between the "more reasonable" Anarchs, as he had called Abrams, and the others.

At long last, Nines budged from his unmoving position, turned on his heels and stalked out of the Theatre, Damsel and Skelter stumbling behind him. Someone cheered and some others shouted something equivalent to "good riddance": some Kindred truly were easily swayed, or better awfully willing to jump on the winning side. Most of the audience was still discussing, or in a stunned silence, but the seeds of doubt had been planted, and, as the doors of the theatre slammed close, I simply knew that Strauss had just won this election and was the new Prince of Los Angeles. Unless the Elders were insane, of course.

"Are there any other questions?" Strauss asked, once again imperturbable.

I tried my hardest to stifle a laugh as nobody dared to even breath, let alone raise a hand, likely fearing to undergo the same fate as Nines.

"Very well, then we may proceed with the election," he proclaimed, turning to the Elders and the other Primogen who nodded in agreement. The Ventrue Elder lady stepped up and the Regent handed her the microphone and sat down.

"I invite any Kindred who desire to candidate themselves for the Position of Prince to stand up," she said, but of course it was a rhetorical phrase: I seriously doubted anyone in the assembly would ever dare to, unless they were crazy. Strauss stood up again and I bit my lip to avoid a smirk as I saw that all the other potential candidates on stage remained glued to their chairs.

"Primogen Strauss, before we evaluate your application, it would be in your rights to give a brief speech to explicate why we should appoint you as the new Prince of this city," she declared, her tone implying that it was hardly necessary: he had been doing that since the beginning of this Conclave, besides there weren't other competitors. I allowed myself an internal smile as I imagined Strauss in a sort of beauty pageant "vote for me speech", declaring he wanted to solve global warming, prevent the deforestation, save all the endangered species and ensure world peace.

"I thank you for this opportunity, but I would rather let facts speak for me," the Regent replied in a confident but not arrogant tone. "I just wish to clarify that, should I be nominated, my mission will be to carry our Community and our city through this moment of great instability and uncertainty, to make Los Angeles a safer place, where Kindred do not have to worry about Jihad on a daily basis. Once I feel that this objective has been fully accomplished, I will gladly retire from my post."

Murmurs coursed through the audience, and they seemed to be appreciative. The Ventrue Elder called for silence and then turned to face the other members of the Conclave.

"It is now time to cast our vote: to ensure transparency and accountability, it is customary to openly disclose our preference. Hence, if you deem Primogen Strauss worthy of the title of Prince, please raise your right hand. Since he is the only voluntary candidate, in order for the election to be valid, he will need a qualified majority of at least two thirds. He will have to abstain from casting his vote. Should he receive an insufficient number of preferences, every member of the Conclave will be called to stand and declare the name of another fellow member who they consider to be the most suitable candidate in our midst. The two Kindred who will collect the highest amount of votes will then undergo a final ballot, and the winner will be appointed as the new Prince of Los Angeles."

Every member of the Conclave nodded in assent and I felt the tension enveloping the whole Theatre, as she gestured that it was time for the first round of voting. The first hands to be raised were Voerman's (unsurprisingly) and Raoul's, then someone who was probably a Tremere Elder, followed by Cutteridge (who was almost certainly dying inside, although smiling on the outside) and, little by little, one by one, a forest of arms stood up to attention. I guessed that most of them did not want to risk being humiliated by Strauss in the final ballot. Those few Elders who had yet to do so, were looking around furtively, doubtlessly to evaluate if the majority had been reached, and, in the end, they all joined the "forest" and the winning side.

An unanimous triumph: I felt my chest burst with a mixture of powerful emotions that I could not exactly make out, although the most prominent one was joy. Strauss appeared as collected as always, but, as our eyes met, I could see a twinkle in his eyes that betrayed his contentment.

"Brothers of Los Angeles, I present to you Prince Maximillian Strauss," the Ventrue Elder proclaimed and I joined the round of applauses that rose from the audience. Even Abrams was clapping his hands, although with the enthusiasm of someone who is carried to the gallows.

"I hereby declare this Conclave concluded, I thank you for your participation," Strauss pronounced at last, as the applauses dwindled down. Some people in the assembly started to stand up and head towards the exit: Abrams lost no time in uttering his greetings and doing so, not that I could blame him.

Strauss was busy saluting and thanking the various Elders and Primogen and I did not know if I should stay or leave.

"It has been quite a night," Mr Hopkins declared at my side, and I turned to him, having forgotten about his presence.

"Indeed," I replied with a slight smile, unsure about how he truly felt about a Tremere Prince.

"I guess we will see each other again very soon, Ms Wilson, until then," he declared and, although I did not know exactly what he meant, I nodded and bid him good morning as he left.

"Irene," I heard a familiar voice behind my back and turned around, to see Strauss standing near me. I could practically sense that he was gloating on the inside, although he was very good at masking it.

"Prim… Prince Strauss, my homage," I said, bowing: it would take some time to get used to the new title. As I stood back up, I could bet that Strauss was restraining from smiling or perhaps even chuckling.

"Thank you," he murmured, and from his tone I knew that he was expressing his appreciation about my contribution during the emergency and his campaign.

"It's been a pleasure, sir. I guess I will get going and… leave you to your obligations," I replied, hinting at the row of Kindred waiting for his attention and a chance to flatter the new man in charge.

"Rest well, Irene," he replied with a slight smile, as he got back to experimenting the first taste of the "joys" of Princedom.

I headed out of the theatre feeling much lighter, extremely grateful and almost astonished that in the last week everything had for once gone more or less exactly as planned: a record, considering that the fates had been tormenting me for the last two years... I hoped it would last.

I closed the door of my apartment behind me, plopped on the couch and kicked off my high heeled shoes, grateful for the fact that Kindred healed quickly: as a Kine those instruments of torture would have given me blisters for days. I had really come to relish these brief moments of solitude in my haven: they were the only times when I was allowed to let my guard down and be myself. Here I was not required to be perfect, or at least to act as if I were.

I felt my eyes slowly drooping closed and I forcefully dragged myself off the couch and up the stairs. As I was taking the last step a familiar noise almost made me stumble: a new email. Taking a deep breath and mentally chastising myself for my irrational nerves, I approached the computer: I was once again perfectly awake.

As soon as I saw that the sender was unfamiliar, I felt a clog at my throat. Opening the mail, I found two pictures: the first one was of a familiar looking chimney smoking white, while the second one depicted a newly elected Pope saluting the crowd after the end of the Conclave and the proclamation. I recognised him as John Paul I, the Pope who had reigned for about a month, before dying under unclear circumstances that had given birth to many conjectures about conspiracies, murder and the likes.

The message was clear and it made me wonder about how fast the news travelled these days: could it be that LaCroix had some contact in the Conclave? One of the Elders, perhaps… Secondly, since the Pope symbolised Strauss, why was he sending this to me? Well, probably threatening a new Prince directly was not the best of ideas, but even indirectly… No, this was not about Strauss, it was about exploiting **my** fears, since if he fell, I would almost certainly go down with him. Still, what was he hoping to get from these creative minatory mails, besides the modest satisfaction of messing with my mind a bit? The truth was, though, that this new mail had not managed to hit me as much as the first one had: things get old fast and, although I was not exactly thrilled, I wasn't as scared as I had imagined I would be.

In any case, since there was now no doubt in my mind that it was from LaCroix, I had to choose how to act. Ignoring it like I had done with the first one, not giving it – and him – importance and hoping he would get tired and desist? Perhaps… Telling Strauss about this? No, it would still be unreasonable: he had too much going on to be disturbed with these small problems. Or maybe…

Using Google I searched for the best image I could find that portrayed Napolen's death in Saint Helena. Selecting one, I hit the reply button and enclosed it in the mail, sending it as it was, without any text. A gentle reminder of what he was risking if he kept this up. Two could play at this game, right?

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**A/N: A looong chapter, I do not know why but Camarilla meetings tend to take a lot of pages to write, at least for me.**** I am very unsure about this chapter, truth to be told, on one hand I love it, on the other I don't, let me know what you think… We have Strauss in full glory here, but the hard work for him (and for Irene) is only getting started: as LaCroix says, the really difficult thing is not to obtain power, but to maintain power ;)**

**An enormous thank you to Pagan Witch, Olivia, sister-b, Loving Companion Cube, rednightmare and StrangeoneXD (yes, we are just at the beginning and, as I hinted at in the chapter Irene is not going to have everything going according to her plan, quite the opposite, do not worry) for your reviews: I am amazed by all the feedback, and it is really a great incentive, especially since it is exams time.**

**My gratitude to all the readers old and new!**

**A very special thank you to Loving Companion Cube who took some time out from her "visits" to Scotland to help me and reassure me about this Chapter and for throwing wonderful inspirations my way for future developments: you are not only incredibly talented, but also extremely generous.**


	11. Teacher and Student

**Chapter 11: ****Teacher and Student**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

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Since my embrace, I had been assigned more missions than I could remember, some of them had been almost pleasant, or at least entertaining, others basically suicidal, most of them run of the mill and a few had proven to be extremely boring and a complete waste of time.

Tonight the last case applied and I curbed a sigh, as I pretended to drink some champagne, while leaning on a wall near the charity pot, discreetly keeping an eye on it, as well as on the two entrances. Having to play security guard was bad enough, but having to do so dressed for a mundane soiree was even worse: in the hopefully remote case that anything actually happened, fighting in this apparel would be extremely impractical. Anyhow, it was quite difficult performing my job while almost all the Kindred in the room were taking their turns to come and speak with me: indirect boot-licking, the side-effect of being close to the man in charge, as Therese would put it. Speaking of which, all of this attention, albeit unwanted, did not seem to please her: this was her night and, although she was surrounded by Kine millionaires, she probably felt that I was stealing her Kindred spotlight. Well, at least she would think twice about employing me on this kind of services again.

I couldn't count much on Alexandra either, since I could practically feel her sulking from the other side of the ample room: arms crossed in front of her chest, eyes cast downwards, she seemed an adolescent giving the silent treatment to her parents who had dragged her to a party with family friends. And, while I couldn't blame her for the lack of enthusiasm, her attitude was seriously starting to grate on my nerves: I was forced to be here too, but I did not whine more than Ash Rivers on full diva mode, not outwardly, at least. Sure, I could understand her discomfort and irritation at being under my supervision, the fact that she still had not been able to make the psychological transition from Kine to Kindred, not completely, but my patience and understanding had a limit. After all, she had had ten years, at least one exceptional mentor, tutoring, housing, nourishment… I had had half an hour of training by an Anarch Brujah, although a legendary one, a dump of a hole to live in, forty dollars in my wallet, a suicidal mission put on my head by a "mentor" who saw me as an hindrance and wanted to get rid of me, all of this while trying to figure out who I could feed upon without risking of throwing up blood in the middle of a street. If there were someone in this room who had the right to complain about her Embrace, it wasn't Alexandra.

"Unless we are assaulted by Lilliputians, I seriously doubt there are foes hiding in your shoes," I whispered in the hidden microphone. "Since you are under my responsibility and I am standing right in front of you, you should at least pretend you are doing your job."

"Ha ha, very funny," I heard her whisper back in a flat tone through the auricular, while she raised her chin and looked around deliberately slowly. "Happy now, _Boss_?"

"No and yes, I am your superior, so you would do better remember that."

"Or what? Oh, I am so scared," she deadpanned mockingly.

"Yes, you should be, most especially of yourself, because this disruptive attitude is not going to take you very far," I hissed and I could feel she shook a little and looked down again, probably unable to reply: the uncomfortable truth was always the most cutting of weapons. "We are going to continue this conversation later, now do your job and it will be over before you know it."

"You are just like Strauss," she whispered after a minute, and if this was the best retaliation she could offer, boy, was she in trouble. She wouldn't last a week out on her own.

"Considering he is a Prince, I thank you for the compliment," I uttered with a smirk and I was very pleased since that made her shut up completely. She was still acting like the leader of an emo teenage band, but at least she was looking where she was supposed to.

At half past ten Strauss put in his appearance: the evening was at its clou and would soon start dwindling down to its natural conclusion. Therese lost no time in demanding his undivided attention, staying glued to his side as she explained the various paintings with such a care that even Valdez would have been proud of. By the way, I had half expected to see him here, and I wondered if he had managed to avoid it because he deemed this Exhibition below his standards, or if Therese had simply not invited him. After all, she was not very fond of Toreadors and Nosferatu… well, truth to be told she basically respected only Ventrues above a certain rank and Strauss, therefore, should she go by her preferences, her events would be… extremely exclusive

The best thing about Strauss being in the room was that the flatterers could aim for their target directly and I was able to work with less distractions, besides a few attempts at seduction from a middle aged Kine millionaire that I had rapidly deflected with the use of Domination: I couldn't leave my post to feed on him and trying to convince someone with an ego as big as his platinum-credit-cards-filled wallet that he was not my cup of tea would have been simply too time consuming. Since becoming Kindred I had noticed that I gradually caught the attention of more and more Kine of the opposite sex – and even of some women – I guessed that it was the result of developing my Presence and my seduction skills, although I was still way below the level of an average Toreador on the latter front. It was awfully convenient for feeding, but at times like these it could be a trouble.

At long last, at a quarter past eleven most of the Kine in attendance gave their regards to Therese and left. While she was being distracted by a few of them, Strauss circumspectly approached me.

"An unforgettable evening," he jokingly murmured with a sigh and I had to hold back a chuckle: Therese had not allowed him any respite, not to mention the bootlickers.

"Indeed, I will record it in my annals as one of my fondest of memories, Max," I replied with a sympathetic glance and his eyes widened slightly as he looked at me oddly.

"You are the only Kindred in attendance who has yet to call me 'my Prince'."

"Oh, I… I apologise sir, I did not mean to sound disrespectful," I stammered, mentally cursing myself for my stupidity: he was the Prince now P R I N C E, I could not just assume to take certain liberties anymore. It was a bad habit, which I had to break fast.

"On the contrary, Irene, if I hear those two words one more time tonight I might not be held accountable for my actions," he muttered in his deepest voice while rubbing his forehead. "How did LaCroix put up with all these sycophants? Perhaps Ventrues receive a special preparation on the subject."

"Well, you are asking the wrong Ventrue, sir," I replied with a smile making him chuckle. "If it can be of any consolation, I had a procession of toadies myself before you arrived. After all, the election was just a few days ago, I hope they will relent a bit in time, it should be a cyclic phenomenon. They were not this bad when I was under LaCroix."

"I pray you are right… While we are on the subject of Ventrue tuition, tomorrow night at eight your presence will be required at Venture Tower. Together with Primogen Cutteridge, we are going to discuss your… future engagements."

"All right, Max… I thank you again for the opportunity."

"I fear I have to return to Voerman in order to prevent further misgivings about the nature of our relationship. I entrust Alexandra upon you for the remainder of the evening, please escort her to the Chantry before retiring to your haven," he instructed me and I could feel he dreaded the prospective of spending even another minute with Therese. Well, better on his back than on mine.

"Of course, sir. Good luck!"

My comment drew out another bitter chuckle and he slowly walked back to his torture. Fortunately, Therese did not seem to have noticed our exchange, while, looking up, I was met with Alexandra's glare but, in a blink, she went back to the inspection routine I had assigned to her.

By a quarter to midnight everybody had left and only the four of us remained. Strauss claimed to have some urgent obligation to attend to, thus extricating himself from Therese's invitation to her office at the Asylum. She was not particularly pleased to see him leaving, but the fact that Alexandra and I had stayed behind alleviated her irritation. We helped her activate the complex alarm system, a mixture of technologies and Tremere protections and close up.

We bid her good night and shared the same cab to Downtown. To her surprise and ignoring her protests, I instructed the driver to stop at my haven and ushered her inside. I had to give Alexandra what I felt was a most necessary lecture but I needed to do so without being surrounded by preying ears and eyes: Strauss had granted me cart blanche with her, even in relation to punishments. Before recurring to drastic measures though, I believed I had to try with a more psychological approach.

"What are we doing here?" she exclaimed with a higher pitch, as I closed the door behind us.

"Sit down," I commanded, indicating the couch.

"Or what?"

"I said: sit down!" I repeated with a low tone, using my presence to increase the effect of my words. I did not want to have to turn to domination, unless it was an emergency, besides I was not sure it would work: I had no idea to what generation Strauss' associate had belonged to, but it was hardly a high one. "The location has been chosen out of consideration for you on my part, but we can still go to the Chantry and have this conversation there."

I was satisfied to see she complied and I placed myself in front of her, in my best stern lecturer pose: I had taught some minor classes both at the MIT and at UCLA but, more importantly, I had tutored dozens of difficult students, so I tried to apply that experience to this new situation.

"When Strauss asked me to supervise you, I imagined you would be uncomfortable with the situation, but I believed that you would understand and I was actually looking forward to working with you, since at the MIT you were renowned for your dedication, your maturity and your intelligence. So you can imagine how extremely disappointed I was when, instead of a reliable partner, I found myself dealing with a brooding, unreasonable, infantile whiner. I want to put it clearly that I am very unimpressed by your behaviour tonight."

"Oh yeah? And why should I care? Just because you and Strauss are all chummy, that does not mean I have to respect you, or to fear you, or to obey to you: you are younger than me!" she protested, raising her tone with every word. At that, I simply laughed, heartily and for a deliberately long time.

"Ah, Alexandra, you really have been kept in a shelter these past ten years, and yet you should still know better. Your opinions and preferences do not matter in the slightest in this world, unless you are high up the ranks. You might not respect me, but I am your superior in status and you have to follow my instructions. Moreover, had Strauss demanded you to follow the orders of a monkey, you would have had to do so. Out there everyone who is your senior, which means the vast majority of Kindred, will feel entitled to walk all over you and to command you around, regardless of your age, their age, or your feelings on the matter. You are lucky that I am understanding and willing to let it pass, this once, because I can assure you that, had you acted like this with anyone else, you would have been harshly punished. My indulgence is limited though: next time I will not be so lenient and trust me when I tell you that you do not want to test how my wrath can be like. Additionally, you have to sum Strauss' displeasure on top of it, since I am supposed to report to him your progresses or lack thereof."

It was mostly a bluff: I had no doubt about the Prince's ability to deliver punishments, but I was not that confident in mine, so I hoped it would not come to that. She did not reply but merely seethed, abusing her fists and looking down. Thinking back about her outburst, and how annoyed she had seemed to be about Strauss talking to me at the Gallery, I wondered if she might also be resentful of my closeness with her Regent. He was not her Sire and she had been under him for probably little more than a year, but it made sense especially if a blood bond were involved. Furthermore, the fact that he had basically given up on tutoring her "on the field" any further, delegating it to me in my scraps of time, was a clear signal that, unless she changed her register, he would very soon wash his hands of her and that he saw her as an encumbrance, more than an asset. If her once brilliant brain had not been completely burned in the last ten years, she was almost certainly aware of it.

"What's more, it is not like Strauss' trust was magically bestowed upon me out of the blue, because of some divine intervention: I had to gain it and it was not a walk in the park, believe me. If you want his respect, you simply have to prove him you deserve it and the first step in that direction is to complete your assignment successfully. However, the attitude you have shown tonight is a sure-fire way to failure," I explained in a calmer voice and she looked up at me again. I could read many emotions: rage, sadness, pain, defiance and a good amount of fear: she was like an open book. How could her Sire have allowed her to be in these conditions after all those years under his tutelage? Perhaps, after her madness during the hard training, he had gone soft and he had pampered her, maybe because of some sense of guilt or affection. It was unusual but not impossible even among more experienced Kindred: Isaac Abrams and Ash Rivers were the un-living proof of it, but Abrams was an Anarch and they were far more liberal in education. Or maybe he had chosen to hide this "disgrace" from the external world but, for some reason, had not had the courage to "cut off" the dry sprig, like I knew a lot of Sire did to "inadequate" Childer.

"What did I do that was so wrong tonight? Nothing bad happened, it was a success!" she finally cried out, the defiance emerging more prominently.

"Nothing bad happened because nobody even tried to make it happen! Until I reprimanded you, a Tzimisce wearing a bikini could have passed you by and you most likely would not have noticed him. You saw that I was busy with all those Kindred parading in front of me and you knew that I could not send them off or tell them the real reason of our presence there. Consequently, you should have kept eyes, ears and whatever other senses you possess on alert at all times."

"We both knew from the beginning that it was going to be a waste of time and that nothing serious would take place, come on, admit it! I treated it lightly because it was a simple assignment, way below my possibilities," she retorted, huffing and rolling her eyes. Ok, she had a point, but I could not let her know it. The fact was that I wanted to make things clear for future missions when we would actually be put in some kind of danger, before her sloppy behaviour killed us both.

"First of all, unless you are a Malkavian equipped with psychic skills pretending to be a Tremere, you had no way of being certain that everything would go smoothly: nobody, not even Strauss would have put his hand on the fire about it. Some of the Anarchs were practically humiliated the other night, the Prince was attending and so was I: they might have jumped at the occasion to give a public demonstration of strength. Secondly, there are no A or B or C class missions: once you are entrusted with one, you have to carry it out responsibly and at the best of your abilities. It might be more or less demanding but lowering your guard can turn even the apparently easiest of operations in your final death or that of people who are depending on you. Third, Strauss and I would be more than glad to assign you more complex tasks, but only when we have a tangible proof that you are ready. Complete the more menial jobs successfully, dutifully and responsibly… work hard, be respectful of your supervisors… in short use all those qualities that earned you a reputation in the academic world and that therefore I am sure you possess, and you will soon move on to bigger things."

Silence enveloped my apartment as she dropped her head and tortured her hands for a long time, her shoulders sagging slightly. I allowed her time to ponder over her actions, it was her turn to talk now, but I hoped it would not take her all night, since Strauss would not be pleased if she did not arrive at the Chantry on time.

"I am not the same person I was back then, that Alexandra died with the Embrace," she finally replied with a whisper, and I could see she was holding back tears. Very well, we were in the second phase, beyond the rage and denial, perhaps I was getting somewhere.

"You might be different under a lot of aspects, but your brain, your intelligence, your potential is still there. You simply need to…" I tried to reassure her but I was brusquely interrupted as she lashed at me.

"My fucking brain and knowledge, yeah, that's all I have, all I am or better all I **was** but here it is worth nothing! It is easy for you to talk, but I am not you, I am not strong like you, I am not the fucking sensation of the city! I used to be someone once, a name that was respected, now I am a nobody, and for the few Kindred who know of my existence I am a laughing stock… I feel like a well that's been sucked and dried, I…"

She probably had not been sucked that dried because she burst into tears, blood rivulets streaming down her cheeks and threatening to fall on my immaculate couch, I rushed to get some tissues to avoid a mess and handed them to her. I guessed Kindred could still be subjected to depression, because she was sporting most of the symptoms. I did not know if I was supposed to literally slap some sense into her to make it stop or to console her, now that she had opened up. Well, at least she was liberating herself of some pent up tension, and I wondered how long she had needed release. For some reasons I doubted Strauss would be good at handling crying ladies, or at offering comfort. The problem was that, in truth, I was not that much better: contact usually made me feel uneasy and I was never that apt at being affectionate, even as a human. It was not that I was unable to empathise, on the contrary, I was quite talented at understanding other people's emotions and troubles, but I was inept at demonstrating it openly. A slap and a caress, a voice reminded me.

I remembered reading that hugs, by exercising pressure on the body, somehow slowed down the heartbeat rate, subsequently reducing the necessary intake of oxygen and air, thus calming the recipient. I did not know if it would still work when the heart was a useless motionless atrophied muscle, but, given that I still felt things that should no longer be possible (like stomach-burns), I had come to the conclusion that the body was really more than a sum of its parts. Old habits die hard: it was a bit like those humans who had one limb amputated and yet they could still feel it… at least for some time, until their new condition truly settled in

So I took in a breath and, quelling my aversion for close proximity with strangers, awkwardly took Alexandra in my arms. After the initial shock, she almost threw herself on me, squeezing me in a vice-like grip and burying her face in my chest: as I clumsily patted her on the back I couldn't help but wonder if a good drycleaner would be able to remove the bloodstains or my expensive dress was already damaged beyond repair. Weird: two years ago, despite the uneasiness, I would not have cared about a thing like that, worrying only about the person sobbing in my arms. Of course, two years ago I knew nobody who cried blood and, had I stumbled upon anything of this sort, the dress would have been really the last preoccupation on my mind. But, more to the point, the state of my humanity was a mystery to me: on most things I was truly much more connected with it than the majority of Kindred I knew, although I hid it quite well, but some small things like this reminded me that I had changed, that there was a part of me that was cynical and aseptic. It was still subdued, but it had grown and I probably would become more and more dispassionate in time.

I also noticed that the smell of Alexandra's blood did not attract me in the slightest, another odd thing, since I had a preference for scholar's vitae and her blood also had some supernatural properties; on the contrary, there was a nauseating undertone to it that enhanced the unpleasantness of this situation. I stoically resisted, counting the frequency of her sobs, until they gradually slowed down and subsided. At long last, I was able to withdraw and give her other tissues to clean herself off: sadly for my black chiffon dress it would take more than that. Any waste of money was bad news for me, since Strauss had not yet explained how, if or when I was going to get an allowance and how much it was going to amount to: my savings had been almost depleted with the arsenal I had been forced to buy to fight Xiao and the Sheriff. Well, since he had dropped me with this hot potato of a Neonate, I hoped that he would at least make it worth my while.

"Listen, Alexandra, we are much more similar than you imagine," I spoke softly, after she had eagerly drained and discarded the bloodpack I had offered her so that she might replenish her pool a bit. The last thing I needed was a frenzied Tremere in my apartment. "Do you know what's the only real difference between us? That I am living in the present and planning my future, while you are still stuck in your past."

She looked down yet again but she was calm and I could see she knew I was right and was not denying it.

"You were great once, well, there is nothing preventing you from becoming someone you can be proud of again. You are just blocked by fear of failure, but it's like a self-fuelling downward spiral. You can still stop it and invert the trend: you just need to believe in yourself and in your possibilities, because if you don't, it is extremely unlikely that other Kindred will."

Goodness, I sounded like one of those self-help manuals, but it was the simple truth, it probably would not matter much, it was unlikely she would listen to me but I had to try.

"It's been ten years, it is too late," she murmured looking at me dejectedly.

"Ten years? What are ten years for a Kindred?" I asked forcing myself to laugh lightly. "We can live hundreds, thousands of years, potentially... And then not all of us have to be precocious: you were as a human, but there are late bloomers who surpass the so-called enfant prodige, given time. If you become someone who is well respected, in time nobody will remember about these first few years or they will not care."

"You make it sound so easy," she said with a sigh, twisting a clean tissue in her hands: good, more debris to clean up.

"It is not easy, but it is not as impossible as you have convinced yourself it is. Come on, what do you have to lose? Strauss is offering you a chance through me, but it is most likely going to be your last, so you have to put it to a good use, because you need all the experience you can get if you want to survive out there on your own."

"Maybe I do not want to survive, maybe I just want to die and disappear," she mewled and I hoped she was not going back to the full-fledged teenage emo behaviour. Besides, this phrase was so cliché in a number of ways that I did not even bother to count.

"If you had truly wanted to die, you would have already killed yourself and we would not be speaking tonight," I told her matter-of-factly: she was a lot like Rivers, they did not like this un-life and were self-destructive but, at the same time, they did not really want to die. A limbo of sorts. Or their way to ask for attention.

She did not reply and I took it as a good sign, while I disentangled the tissue from her hands.

"Now I am going to bring you back to the Chantry: use the time until our next mission to ponder about what I have told you tonight. I have already said it, but I am going to repeat it again: I expect a professional behaviour from now on, I am not asking of you to be perfect, but to give it all you've got, doing nothing less than your best. Otherwise, I will be forced to teach you a lesson in no uncertain terms, and so will Strauss."

"What are you going to tell him about tonight?" she asked with a rasping voice. She probably already knew how sour Strauss' "medicine" could taste, and the fact that she was afraid of him reassured me that some of her good sense was still present.

"That my evaluation is suspended until the next mission," I explained and I could sense she was relieved. "But it is the first and the last time: you have burnt your bonus."

She merely nodded as I put on a light raincoat to hide the stains: I did not need unwanted attention. Then I rapidly accompanied her to the Chantry, making sure she got back to her room in one piece. I knew she would almost certainly just persist in her self-destructive ways and be a royal pain, but I had done my part, now it was up to her. Besides, Strauss would not inflict her on me indefinitely, if she did not show improvements.

As I was reaching the knob of the entrance door to leave, though, it slipped away and it flew open, revealing a male Tremere who was probably retiring for the night. A few inches taller than me, thin, with messy ginger hair and playful bright green eyes, he looked no older than thirty and, thanks to his green tweed, resembled a young Irish leprechaun, just magnified tenfold. Not the most ominous looking vampires I had ever met, but appearances could be deceiving.

"Ah, Ms Wilson, it is fortunate that I should make your acquaintance tonight. I was hoping to meet you before heading back to New York," he exclaimed with an impish smile although not in the thick Irish brogue I had half-expected: there was just a slight British inflection in his voice. It reminded me of my father: though born, raised and schooled in London, the following decades spent on the New Continent had diluted his accent quite much. If he made a slight effort, he could now quite credibly pass for American, at least to the average ear.

"Oh, I have not introduced myself properly. George Collins, I am the Regent of the Chantry in Manhattan," he introduced himself politely and I had the umpteenth confirmation that judging the book by its cover was never a good idea. "I came here for the Election."

I wondered how I could not have noticed him on stage, but I was particularly nervous and there were so many Elders in attendance that it was not so unexplainable.

"It is a pleasure meeting you, sir," I replied with a slight bow. So many new faces, so many names… It could get confusing after a while.

"Indeed… Pardon me if I sound indiscreet or blunt, but I do not have much time. I would like to know on what terms you are with Sebastian LaCroix, since he is now… gracing our State with his presence."

"Well… I would say we are not on any terms, we do not have contacts… our ways parted, since I feel that my place is here," I replied, not liking this line of questioning and trying to understand what he was aiming at. Besides, I thought it should be pretty clear already, since I had stayed with Strauss who was not exactly LaCroix's number one fan.

"So I presume that you are not privy to his… future engagements or planning to put in some visits to your former mentor," he enquired with a raised eyebrow, and again I felt confused.

"No, sir, you actually may be more informed than I am. As for the rest, I am perfectly fine in Los Angeles and I do not think I will cross the continent any time soon."

"I see… In any case, should you, for any reason, find yourself in the Big Apple, the doors of our Chantry are open to a friend of our clan and of Maximillian," he said with a smile and I guessed this basically meant that he expected me to announce my presence, should I ever head there. Well, I could imagine that LaCroix's arrival must not have been the most welcome of news, that it might destabilise some political balances and since Tremere were notoriously wary of Ventrues… But how was I involved in any of this? Well, excluding the Clan I belong to, of course.

"I will, thank you," I replied, thinking that I would rather head to the north pole than anywhere near LaCroix, so the chances of a visit to his Chantry were close to nonexistent.

"Before I go, one last word of advice, there is someone out there, concealing his presence. I am afraid he could be following you. You should be careful."

With a smile and a pat on my back, he disappeared down the corridor, while I was suddenly feeling nauseous. I only had a handgun hidden in my purse: dressed like this I could not exactly carry around an arsenal. I took it out and hid it in a pocket of the raincoat, keeping my hand on it and stepped out, trying to seem casual, while all senses were alerted for anything suspicious. I started walking, slowly at first and then speeding up the pace. I felt the back of my neck prickle, and I just knew someone was watching me. There was a slight breeze and a soft noise and, upon passing in front of a side street, I swore I had seen something move. I waited until the next one and, sensing a presence on my right, I quickly poked my gun at it, just as a hand grabbed my left arm and pulled me in the unlit alley.

"Whoa Kid, put down the artillery, I come in peace!"

"Nines?" I exclaimed, as I looked from his blue eyes to my gun which was resting on his chest. Not a particularly dangerous spot for a Vampire, but it was good to know I had been able to catch him. "Do you always creep up on people like this as a sign of peace? Because, you know, those signals like a white flag, a dove, an olive branch, they might be old but they are more effective and recognisable."

"No, Irene," he said with a chuckle. "It's just… you got all eyes on ya these days, and I wanna talk in private."

"I hope this alley is private enough for you, because I am not going anywhere. Besides, last time we had a conversation in a secluded place it almost got us killed," I replied lowering my weapon, since, in any case, engaging a gunfight with Nines would have been suicide.

"Yeah, 'bout that, sorry for laying low but…" he trailed off and I detected an hint of embarrassment, which was still an understatement compared to what I had to go through, both in the original and in the official take of the latest events.

"It's ok Nines, I am just glad to see you are alive," I replied in a neutral tone, which heavily hinted to the fact that we were not exactly fine.

"Listen, I know you had to go through heavy shit and all 'cause of my act, but 'twas necessary. Those hairy suckers really pack a punch, I was in a bad shape and our lil Napoleon woulda tried to finish the job while I was weak. I asked Jack to help ya out, I planned to come out a few days later, but then hell broke loose and…"

"Nines, as I said I am glad to see you made it out in one piece and it is not sarcastic… You had saved my life twice already, I guess I could not expect that you would do it again. You acted rationally and thought of yourself and your faction, like most Kindred would have… It's too bad that it was not the best of timing for a bout of selfishness, since we all risked to be wiped out by the Kuei-Jin. Plus it clashes with the image I had of you, but I can live with it, none of us is a Saint."

"You don't believe we planned it, right?" he asked looking hopeful. From the Anarchs' reaction at the Conclave, I knew Strauss was not that far off the mark with his accusations, but how to respond?

"What I believe is of no consequence or importance," I replied with my best poker face.

"It is for me, Kid," he said in what looked like an honest face. But I knew better than to buy so easily.

"Well, let's just say that, I have reasons to think that, had Xiao killed LaCroix and laid waste to the Camarilla, you would not have been exactly devastated by grief. In any case, even if you were in good faith, you miscalculated the potential consequences of your disappearance. But nobody is perfect, I guess."

"What's been of the Sarcophagus?" he asked suddenly with a strange look.

"Strauss and I took care of it and it will no longer pose a threat," I replied neutrally and was surprised when he raised both eyebrows and let out a bitter chuckle.

"So you two got it in the end, eh Irene? I guess we underestimated Strauss: he's smart, I'll give him that, and you… you proved to be different from LaCroix, like I'd hoped you would. Too bad you ended up on the wrong side, Kid: I had kinda hoped you'd come to us after the hunt… Things mighta gone differently."

I did not know what he was talking about: what had Strauss and I "gotten in the end"? Were the Anarchs somehow involved with the Sarcophagus? Suddenly, those mails I had received and, most importantly, Beckett abrupt change of heart took a new significance: I could not quite put my fingers on it yet, but I sensed the solution of the riddle was within reach. Well, it did not matter much now anyway, but if I just pondered about it a bit more… Still, I was brought back to reality as the potential meaning of what he had said later sunk in and I did not like it one bit.

"Let me get this straight: had I come to the Anarchs, you would have cleared my name sooner? Or did you purposefully allow for me to be hunted so that I would be forced to switch sides, besides the whole potentially alluring Kuei-Jin vs. Camarilla showdown?" I asked in a slightly dangerous tone.

"No, no, Irene, I mean… yeah, it did not come out right but I didn't mean it like that. With your help we coulda gotten our City back, that's it," he exclaimed and again he seemed honest, but I was wary. I was not so off the mark either and I knew it; still, I wondered why he was so set on trying to convince me he had been acting in good faith and on getting back on my good side. I had not expected this, but rather of the Anarchs to lay low for a while and then strike back in full force. Unless Abrams had convinced them of the necessity to be more diplomatic… but Nines, Damsel and Skelter were not easily persuaded and stubborn as hell.

"In any case, I would not have been a great addition to the Anarch cause, Nines. We are different: I admire and respect your drive and your beliefs, but I… I do not have enough confidence in human and Kindred nature to believe your dream can become true. Have you ever read _Animal Farm_?"

"Heard of it… You think I would become just like every other Cape once I got some power?" he asked, clearly outraged.

"No, Nines. I… although I may not approve the means, I know you are moved by honest ideals, and so seem to be Damsel and Skelter. But the problem is that you cannot count on others to be too… Should the Anarchs get power on large territories, you would have to delegate to others. It is not difficult to imagine that a lot of Kindred who survived the revolution but do not exactly have equanimity and your values in mind would join the cause just to get some roles and then replicate the Camarilla behaviour. I mean, think of Therese Voerman: as soon as the Camarilla got back in town she switched sides, but even before, do you think she was an Anarch at heart or behaved like one? She just wanted power, that's all, she was no more liberal in behaviour than LaCroix. In the end, I think you would find yourself in the same situation you started in, only with different people. It is my opinion, I may be proved wrong, but while I am convinced of this I could not join your side and fight your battles thinking it will all be in vain. Sure, I could have taken advantage of the situation to try to get some power for myself, since you do not have the age requirements and hierarchy the Camarilla has, but I am not that kind of person, and that's the reason why I'm being open with you now. If I were you I would think it is better to have an adversary who respects you and that you can respect, although you may not share the same vision, than a lukewarm ally."

"Ya sure know how to talk, Kid, but… it's sad to see someone as young as you so negative and cynical, you shoulda got some dreams, not sound like an Elder," he said with a sigh. "Well, I guess it means we should agree to disagree."

"Something like that, yes. I may not exactly be thrilled about the recent… happenings, but it is not like I suddenly detest you, Jack, Damsel, Skelter and the others. I don't want to be hostile or act on an animosity I do not feel, unless you force me to."

No matter what Nines or Strauss were planning, exacerbating the conflict now would be pointless, besides, I was abiding to this whole "symbol" act the Prince wanted me to carry out. In any case, I was not exactly looking forward to having someone like Nines out for my head, so the more time I could buy before the probably inevitable clash, the better. Plus, this conversation had given me some clues and I would have to report to Strauss about all this, maybe he would know what to make of them.

"I dunno about the others, Kid, 'specially Damsel, you know how she is," he said with half a smirk and I chuckled. "But I wanted to speak with you 'cause I feel as you do, so you and I're cool, more or less, so long as you don't mess with us. Tell your Prince, though, that after his show the other night, he better not cross me on the street."

"Very well, is there anything else? Because dawn is approaching and we should probably go," I replied, purposefully ignoring his threat to Strauss.

"Nah, stay outta trouble, Kid, and don't let'em turn ya into a cape," he said in a tone that meant that I should keep myself out of **their** troubles, as in not interfering with their business and plans. We might still be civil but something had irremediably changed between Nines and me: maybe I had just grown more conscious and distrustful but it was as if some sand had gotten between the cogs and there was now a friction. In time, it would get worse until the mechanism broke down altogether: I would better make sure not to get crashed underneath.

* * *

"H… Hello Ms Wilson," Chunk babbled upon seeing me and I was assaulted by a melancholic pang.

"Hi Chunk, I am expected at the Penthouse."

"Yeah, I know… I will buzz you up," he said hesitantly, pushing the hidden button. "Listen, I… I heard that Mr LaCroix sold the company and skipped town… Is it true?"

"That is still confidential information I am not supposed to divulge, Chunk," I replied with a smile, since I did not know what the official version was. "What I can tell you is that he has decided to move out of LA, yes."

"So he… left you?" he murmured half-angrily, half-expectantly with those big eyes turning into saucers. But I wasn't going back down that path again.

"No, no, not at all," I said with what I hoped was a dreamy gaze. "Ah, he keeps on sending me such thoughtful mails and messages… He goes out of his way to demonstrate he thinks of me constantly: I would say the distance has only improved our relationship."

"Ah well… that's… that's good to hear…" he mumbled a bit dejectedly, reminding me of a beaten-up dog.

"I really have got to go, Chunk, see you later," I exclaimed, losing no time in heading towards the elevator.

As I got in the office, I could see Strauss seated behind the desk, while Cutteridge occupied one of the two chairs in the front: they were immersed in a conversation, but, as soon as the door opened, they turned towards me.

"Ah Irene, not a minute too late, as usual. Please, take a seat," Strauss instructed me and I complied, sitting down next to Cutteridge.

"First of all, I believe an explanation about what is going to become of the LaCroix Foundation is in order. As you might already be aware of, this company is a front to gain and manage the funds necessary to finance the activities of the directing body of the Camarilla: namely the Prince and his collaborators, mainly members of Clan Ventrue. After LaCroix left his position and Los Angeles, there were two feasible options: either to dismantle the Foundation and create a new one, or to make a few changes to its structure and keep it in activity. I decided the second alternative would be far more rational and less time and money consuming. Before his departure, LaCroix resigned from his role as CEO and "sold" his shares to me. Yesterday evening a board meeting took place and I was appointed as the new Chief Executive Officer, while Primogen Cutteridge retained his chair as President."

"I understand."

"I am not a businessman, Irene, while I know that you have the necessary background of knowledge, since it was your field of study. At the next shareholders meeting, I will propose a motion for your inclusion in the board, as an executive director. In the meantime, you will start working here as a manager and our right hand: I need you to follow the transactions and deals I will be unable to attend, support me in the more complex tasks, should Primogen Cutteridge be unavailable and keep an eye on the other managers. You will report directly to the two of us and Primogen Cutteridge will bring you up to date with the Foundation's activities and answer to your questions and doubts. Mr Hopkins, who you have already met, has also offered to be of assistance, as he knows all the personnel and has been working here since the company was founded."

Cutteridge nodded with a pained expression, two bony fingers pinching the bridge of his nose: poor guy this was not going to be pleasant for him.

"Sir, I thank you for the vote of confidence but I am not sure I have the necessary experience. I am more of an Academic myself," I said hesitantly: theory was one thing, but practice was another and, while I had extensively studied accounting and management and had assisted my Professor (who was in the board of several companies and worked as consultant), my expertise was more in the Macroeconomics area.

"Yes, but you are astute and a fast learner, furthermore you were born into the profession: I am confident you will do an excellent job," he replied, in a tone that basically meant that I could not refuse. I was not really surprised to learn that he had made his investigations about my life before the Embrace and about my family, but it felt strange nonetheless.

"Thank you, Sir; I will do my very best."

"Perfect… Primogen Cutteridge, I think it is time to illustrate your tuition programme."

"Yes, my Prince," he murmured as graciously as he could, but the way his hands flexed indicated he was seething on the inside. "This is the required reading material: you are in all probability already familiar with some of the notions, but I expect you to memorize all the books within the next two months. I believe practical training will be unnecessary, in view of the fact that you are already well-versed in that department. Once you are ready, you will attend a few minor Ventrue events with me: in four months there will be a national gathering of the most prominent members of our clan and Lady Veronica Wallace has extended her invitation to you. I hope it is unnecessary for me to underline that you will have to appear absolutely flawless, polished and capable of handling any topic of conversation in an effortless manner."

"Of course, sir," I replied, eyeing the enormous pile of ancient-looking books and wondering how I was supposed to carry them to my flat. Lady Wallace was most likely that Elder Ventrue who had addressed me at the Conclave: I remembered her enquiring about my presence to a gathering… so she had practically forced Cutteridge to bring me along. I hoped it was going to be held somewhere nearby, because the prospective of spending a few days with him was simply dreadful.

"Furthermore, you will be required to carry out the odd assignments as my agent and those activities we have already discussed," Strauss elucidated, and I knew he was talking about the whole symbol act and also about Alexandra. "This is your schedule for the next two weeks, unless some emergency arises."

He handed me a piece of paper and another wave of psychosomatic acid burned in my stomach. It was a good thing I had gotten used to impossible work hours while getting my PhD, because my timetable was so cluttered with engagements and studying that I would basically not have any free time.

"I see…"

"Primogen Cutteridge, I thank you for your cooperation and wish you a good night," Strauss announced, basically dismissing him. He stood up and I was about to imitate him when the Regent's raised hand made me stop.

"There is another matter I wish to discuss in private," he murmured, as soon as Cutteridge was out of the room. "First of all, the real main reason why I want you to be part of the Foundation is to keep an eye on Cutteridge, and make sure he does not put me in hazardous situation or take advantage of his position and experience to embezzle funds for his own purposes. I know it is not an easy task and that you do not have enough time to dedicate to it, but there is nobody else with the necessary competence who I can trust, and even a partial control is better than simply allowing him free reign. Your presence enough should at least act as a deterrent."

"I suspected something of the sort, Sir, especially considering his… less than thrilled reaction," I replied with a smirk. "Still, if he has the complicity of some of the other managers or employers, detecting and discovering a fraud will be almost impossible, unless he makes some mistakes or it gets so big to be impossible to cover."

"Indeed, and do not worry: I do not expect a miracle," he reassured me, taking off his glasses. "Changing the subject: before heading back to New York, Mr Collins reported to me that you were being followed last night."

"Yes, it was Nines, he wanted to talk…" I explained, describing my impressions on our weird conversation. Strauss seemed slightly perturbed, particularly so when I told him of Nines' reaction to my answer about the Sarcophagus.

"I had not expected him to approach you… in a not confrontational way. We will have to endeavour to discover what he is aiming at: I am sure there is a plan in his mind… In any case, I want you to start training on the fundamentals of the Auspex discipline… you will not be able to perceive the more experienced Kindred, but you should at least avoid ambushes by the average scouts and emissaries. It will be essential for your safety and for the protection of classified information, should you be spied upon, which will become more and more likely in the future."

"I… that would be a great opportunity Max," I replied, part of me simply delighted at the news, while another part was thinking about the fact that I would barely have time to feed anymore: how was I supposed to do all of this at the same time? Strauss was surely setting the bar high. From how he had worded his proposal, though, it was also implied that he would still be perfectly capable of controlling me without me knowing and that he was probably not going to allow me to delve very deep in the discipline. Well, it was still better than nothing.

"Then it is settled, I shall take the necessary steps," he proclaimed, opening a drawer on his right and taking out an envelope. "This is your compensation for your recent work, consider it a bonus and an advance on your first salary."

The fact that getting a regular pay-cheque almost seemed too good to be true really made me think about how sad my condition for the past two years had been: I had gotten used to have to do side jobs for a meagre pay and be dependant on LaCroix's whims. Sure, when he had paid me he had proved to be progressively more generous, but he had always made me feel like it was some sort of act of kindness on his part, instead than the deserved reward for all my efforts.

"We will also need to discuss your living arrangements, since LaCroix's quarters are now unoccupied and I do not intend to leave the Chantry or to allow Cutteridge to claim them. You would be more protected when you retire for the day and I believe it would be quite beneficial for the both of us. Think about it until our next meeting."

"Yes, Max and… thank you," I replied, standing up: I would need to ponder over this offer carefully, there were a lot of advantages, yes, but also quite a few drawbacks.

He nodded with an half-smile and I took it as my cue to leave. There was still something slightly surreal about seeing him seated behind that desk in this French decorated office. Perhaps he should make some renovations, I thought with an internal smirk as I closed the door behind me. When I was in the elevator I could not resist the temptation to take a glimpse at the content of the envelope and I was almost stunned: it would cover the cost of the ruined dress, of the stash of ammo I had had to buy and consume, plus I would be able to pay for a very nice present for Mercurio and I would not need to go on a hunt to feed anytime soon. A good thing, since time was now the most precious and scarce commodity for me. Well, if Strauss kept on being so "generous" with his allowances, it would be worth it and he was really giving me an opportunity to grow. I just needed to endure and it would get easier in time, given that the training would not last forever.

With a lighter "heart" and a figuratively heavier wallet I headed back to my apartment, shortly joined by two of Strauss' men who had been ordered to carry the load of tomes. When I was once again alone in my living room, I picked a big volume on the origins of Clan Ventrue and brought it up to my bedroom. I was so engrossed in my reading that I slipped into torpor with the book still in my hands, hazily dreaming of puppet Roman Emperors and political machinations hatched by the powerful Ventrues who moved the invisible strings.

**

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**A/N: I am truly sorry for the delay, but exams are taking up almost all**** of my time, so updates will be at a slower pace until the second week of July. This chapter is extremely long and probably boring, but it contains things I had to get over with now, since in the next chapter there will be a huge jump forward and… All I can say is that I am really, really looking forward to writing it and that the first act of my story is now completely behind us.**

**My deepest thanks to sister-b, Pagan Witch, StrangeoneXD, Olivia and Loving Companion Cube for your wonderful reviews: I am sounding trite but they really are an incredible incentive.**

**Thank you to all the readers!**

**A special thank you to Loving Companion Cube for… well, for everything: Play it again, Sam ;)**


	12. Takeovers and Takeoffs

**Chapter 12****: Takeovers and Takeoffs**

**Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.**

* * *

"…And this is the first draft of the quarterly report, as you asked," Jill, my secretary, announced, placing the folder on the small column of documents "to be read" which occupied the top right corner of my – or better Strauss' – desk.

"Thank you Jill," I replied with a smile. "I am going to examine it during my trip: please, tell the guys at the accounting department that they will receive my feedback once I return and to avoid taking any further steps on this matter until then."

"Of course, Ms Wilson," she nodded politely, her strawberry blond high ponytail swinging slightly. "I have already postponed any meetings, I will hold your calls and relay only messages of a certain urgency or gravity. The director of that orphanage was quite adamant about speaking with you, though, but I told him you were away on a mission and would get back to him in a few days."

"Ah, yes, Mr Cooper, right? He is a stubborn man," I admitted, curbing a sigh.

On paper, LaCroix Foundation's main mission was raising money for charitable purposes; in reality, the beneficiaries were, via a net of small societies and associations, the Kindred and ghouls who worked for the LA Camarilla. To deflect suspicions, though, roughly a ten percent of the funds obtained were donated to real – and sometimes well renown - charities belonging to Kine. Some of these were even managed by or connected with religious entities, just to murk the waters some more. The orphanage directed by Mr Cooper had received donations from the Foundation in the last two years and Strauss and I had agreed to perpetuate the tradition. Still, for some reason, the man kept on insisting that one representative of the Foundation consigned the symbolic cheque personally on the occasion of the Christmas festivities, visiting the structure and the children under its care. I would have had no problems about complying, if not for the fact that the programme he had proposed required being there in the morning hours, which, for evident reasons, was impossible. I had tried submitting him a counterproposal, but he seemed adamant to go with his original suggestion, claiming that children were less active and more tired in the evening. On one hand it made sense, on the other a part of me felt that something was off: well, I would worry about it after this trip. Still, I could not afford to tarnish the reputation of the Foundation, so I would have to find a solution: since we were still in the second week of October, there was ample time and I did not understand Mr Cooper's urgency.

"Well, if there is nothing else, I wish you a safe expedition and I will see you in three nights," the apparently twenty-something looking ghoul proclaimed with a smile. In reality, I knew she had been under the employment of the Camarilla for some time, so she had to be forty, at the very least. Like for Mercurio and a few other ghouls, her Regent was an unidentified Ventrue Elder and her blood came in monthly, through a special refrigerated delivery system. This was a way the Camarilla had to ensure that ghouls placed in strategically vital roles were loyal to the organisation and not to the current ruler: first of all to have a further leverage on the Prince and secondly because highly specialised personnel took a long time to train and, especially in contested territories, having to replace them all every time a new Prince was elected would be quite a problem.

"Yes, Jill and thank you," I replied with a warm smile of my own: she had proved to be extremely bright and being on her good side would indubitably spare me a lot of troubles. If there were anything my parents had taught me about business, it was never to underestimate employees and that they could be either the most precious asset of a company, or the most dangerous threat to its existence, particularly if they were mistreated. Even though her being a ghoul and a subordinate would allow me to command her around, I had a feeling that being courteous and "human" would pay off in the end, being something that differentiated me from Cutteridge.

She bowed her head slightly and turned around and, as she walked to the door, I could not help but look up at the distant and expensively ornate ceiling, feeling out of place, for the umpteenth time: in my subconscious, even after almost four months, this was still LaCroix's "throne room". In theory, my office was in the small study just beyond the antechamber, but, in reality, when Strauss was absent, which happened quite often, I had to move here. I knew it was merely a way to keep Cutteridge "in his place", by denying him domain over any location which held a symbolic meaning, but sitting behind _his_ desk still made me slightly uncomfortable.

Strauss had not yet renovated the penthouse or changed the name of the company, claiming there were more pressing matters to concentrate about and I had agreed. Just a few small alterations had been made, removing the small items and decorations which screamed "LaCroix", but the room's style still reflected predominantly his former occupant and, as a consequence, it felt foreign to us. I would have to talk to Strauss about this again, eventually: in our position image was important and, while a reasonable delay reinforced the idea of a man who focused on the priorities of the community, postponing it too much may send a wrong message.

I noted with an internal smirk that perhaps I had spent too much time studying all those books Cutteridge had given me, not to mention working under him and around other members of my Clan: I had seen more Ventrues in these last few months than in the previous two years, by far. The "training" had not been particularly difficult, the only real challenge being the tight schedule I had to work with. I had studied all those tomes on my own and just had a few "talks" with Cutteridge to make sure that all the important concepts had been assimilated: after all, this was not a real "Agoge" and nobody would test me directly on my knowledge. The examination was going to be indirect and subtle and books could only help to a certain extent. Anyway, maybe it was because it had been denied to me for so long, but I had been really eager and motivated to learn everything and that had helped me endure those moments when I had simply wanted some rest and to forget about politics and business, even just for a short while. Plus, I wanted to prove to everybody, Cutteridge and Lady Wallace included, that I had nothing to envy to the other Ventrue who had had a Sire, a formal Agoge and a proper introduction to the Clan, quite the opposite. At this bloody gathering I had to be nothing less than perfect, most especially for my sake, even if it meant giving LaCroix an indirect acknowledgement, as most Kindred would believe he had been the one to provide for my instruction.

Well, truth to be told, I had been surprised to discover how many rules and obligations I knew about or followed already, either subconsciously or by imitation. Part of the credit went to my parents and the education they had given me: they were well-spoken and sophisticated and had always asked nothing less of me. When I was a child, I had never heard them use a swear word, or foul language, no matter how angry they were. Moreover, they had a strong sense of personal honour and decorum: they had taught me that I could buy or obtain a lot of things, but I only had one face and one reputation and, if I lost it, it was most likely irretrievable. What us Ventrue call _Dignitas_ was essential to them, with the difference that they truly believed in it and abided to it, even privately: of course, they were not saints or above reproach and might sometimes have been incoherent without realising it, but they meant well.

Another part of the merit, even though I hated to admit it, went to LaCroix: probably unintentionally, he had taught me quite a lot. It had been a "learning by doing" and by imitation: he had shown me what being Ventrue was about and, by being subjected to his methods and techniques, I had learnt a trick or two myself. Ironically, "Therese" had also been an example of what a stereotypical Ventrue was supposed to be like and, although I had never had the intention to mimic either her or LaCroix, they had given me a benchmark that I had used to build my personal style.

My musings were interrupted as the door opened and Strauss made his entrance, looking vaguely tired: since the election he had barely had the time or space to "breath" himself. I stood up and approached the front of the desk, gladly relinquishing the "throne".

"Are you ready for the departure?" he asked me, eyeing the pile of documents on the desk.

"As much as I will ever be, yes," I replied with a barely audible sigh. "Plus, as you can see, I have plenty of activities to keep me entertained."

"You have no reasons to feel nervous, Irene. In spite of Cutteridge's psychological terrorism, I am confident you will perform brilliantly," he proclaimed with a warm smile and a slight twinkle in his eyes. "You should merely take advantage of this opportunity to build precious connections. On public occasions, way before your Primogen's intervention, you have always been perfectly capable of acting like a true Ventrue and concealing what I would dare to define your… Tremere spirit."

The twinkle intensified and I had to chuckle at what I considered a great compliment, coming from him, although I wasn't sure I really had this "Tremere spirit", whatever that meant.

"Speaking of which, I am more concerned about your progresses with the Auspex discipline: when you return from this voyage, I would like for you to focus on it, given that you are going to have more time at your disposal," he said, approaching the "throne" and sitting down on it.

"Of course, Max, I will exercise whenever I can." I nodded, knowing that he was right.

With an effort, I now could spot the Auras of other people, but it still took all of my concentration and, as such, using it in urgent situations was out of the question, unless I improved. It did not come as natural as the other disciplines typical of my clan: I had the theory of it down and Strauss had even taken time out of his impossible schedule to give me some practical lessons and demonstrations, but it felt… alien.

Strauss believed that it was not a problem of lack of attention on my part, quite the contrary. The fact was that I needed to learn to trust all of my senses and heighten them. I knew I could do it, unconsciously, during emergencies (like when I had been able to "catch" Nines), but it was difficult managing it at will. He had trained me by depriving me of one or more senses, most prominently the sight and challenging me to detect the presence of other people, via their Auras, or objects, by fully exploiting the senses I had left. I had improved, yes, but the problem was that, in order to manage to see Auras, I still needed to close my eyes for some time first and I was unable to skip this passage, at least for now. Evidently, falling into meditation in the middle of a battle or even just as I was walking down the streets, to see if I were being followed, was impossible and, besides, would have given away immediately what I was trying to do.

Maybe my difficulties were connected to my tendency to over-think things and inability to simply let myself go and trust my abilities, unless my life was at stake. Ironically, I might actually be able to use Auspex perfectly under duress, but this line of reasoning was too risky to pursue. I had to get it right no matter what the situation and that was all there was to it.

I took the document wallet I had placed on a chair and started filling it with my "homework" for the next few days. It turned out to be quite heavy, but Cutteridge had undoubtedly arranged for us to travel with a number of lackeys and bodyguards, so the size of the baggage would not be a problem.

"Well, I guess I should go now, sir. Any further instructions?"

"No, Irene. Have a safe flight and… although the company will not be the most pleasant, make the most out of this expedition," he said with a smile, making me chuckle.

"Thank you, Max. I will see you on Monday."

Carrying the heavy case, I went into the elevator and rode it down a level. My shoes clicked on the marble floor as I reached the massive ebony door, sliding my key-card into the slot and waiting as the mechanism pulled it open. With a sigh, I deposited the load in the antechamber, near the other suitcases which I had already packed. In the end, Strauss had managed to convince me to move to LaCroix's former "quarters" and I had discovered that the definition was quite an understatement, to say the least. They did not simply consist of this more than ample apartment which was practically in the penthouse, as I had always imagined. No, apparently our dear Napoleon used to reside here mainly from Mondays to Fridays, when he was in a rush and had to be in the building until the morning came. The real "royal palace" was the imposing manor in front of the Tower, where he received important guests during the weekends and hosted the few unavoidable revels, mostly to schmooze Kine connected with the Foundation and raise money, although there had also been the occasional Ventrue happening.

The mansion was striking but in a somewhat disturbing and eerie way: the architecture was pseudo-gothic, as it had been built by one of LaCroix's predecessor at the beginning of the twentieth century, before the Anarchs managed to kick the "Cammies" out of LA. The whole place felt like a giant, empty, albeit luxurious, mausoleum and I basically stayed at the Tower, going there sporadically, when Strauss asked me to. It was ironic that he was doing all this only to keep Cutteridge out, because the Primogen was the one Kindred who I could actually imagine living there comfortably and fitting in the atmosphere of the place. Although, to be perfectly honest, I almost preferred it to the quasi-rococo style of the penthouse office: I had always been fond of an elegant minimalism in furnishing and decoration. Therefore, I had quite liked the haven at Skyline: yes, it had been a tad too aseptic, but that was merely because I had purposefully avoided to get attached to it or to make it "mine". Had it been my _home_, I would probably have added some slightly less modern furniture in the mixture, to balance things a bit and give a "warmer" feeling to the place.

I had to admit, though, that this apartment had been a rather pleasant surprise: upon first entering it, I had feared to find a small-scale replica of Versailles, considering LaCroix's mania of grandeur, the golden opulence of the Penthouse and the fact that he had had to adapt to a manor which did not exactly suit him. Unless one rebuilt it from scratch, the austere structural design doomed any attempt at an internal refurbishing: almost everything would clash with it, sticking out like a sore thumb.

Instead, this spacious flat was sophisticated without being flamboyant and, even though every single piece of furniture was probably worth more than an average car, it was a… subtle luxury and, most importantly, it was "liveable". The flooring was of a well maintained white marble, the walls were also white, contrasting with the antique ebony furniture. There were a few touches of modernity: the electronic appliances, the lamps, the couch… Moreover, the unused kitchen and the enormous bathroom could be defined state of the art and seemed to come straight from a design magazine. Still, the black and white theme was constant and the dominance of the latter gave the place a nice sense of luminosity, despite the fact that the only illumination which ever graced it was artificial. While the external walls had enormous windows, like in every skyscraper, there was a complex mechanism of UV-proof shutters which automatically lowered themselves one hour before sunrise. For security reasons though, they could only be raised "manually" on situ and the bedroom had been deliberately placed "internally", so that it had no windows. Additionally, its doors had extremely secure locks and were even more sturdy than the one leading out of the apartment.

Someone may deem these precautions paranoid, but I was glad they were present and I actually almost never raised the shutters, if not for a short time: sun was our worst enemy and one could never be too cautious.

I walked through the living room and entered the bedroom, as I wanted to change into something slightly more comfortable for the flight: I had already arranged the selected clothes on the quilt of the King – sized canopy bed, as if LaCroix would have ever settled for something smaller. Sleeping in _his_ bed had been awkward at first, even if the mattress felt like heaven and the whole place had been "cleansed" of almost every trace of his presence before I moved in. Still, from time to time, I stumbled upon some things that had been left behind and forgotten, usually in the back of some drawer: a tie, a watch, a single white gold cufflink adorned with a small sapphire, an almost empty jar of soft-hold styling gel… It was ironic, really: every time I was nearly getting accustomed to living here and considering the place as "my haven", some little everyday object would pop up, marking the territory as _his_ and making me feel like a squatter. It was as if the fates forbid that I forget about LaCroix, even if he seemed to have relented with his mails: thank goodness for small mercies.

Furthermore, in the living room there were a few shelves filled with various books of his: in all probability they were too heavy and not rare enough to warrant a cross-continental shipment. I had not had the time to browse through them yet, but I had to confess that they piqued my curiosity a bit. Books could tell quite a lot about their owner, after all, and, although a study in LaCroix's character was rather pointless, the inquisitive part of me was intrigued by the possibility to learn more about him. Of course, accomplishing the result with a few tomes was pretty impossible, unless I were a modern version of Sherlock Holmes and a master psychologist, which, sadly, I was not. Still, for example, the style of this apartment – more or less sober – and the striking contrast with the "throne room" made me wonder which one reflected the "real" LaCroix: either the ostentation of wealth was merely a façade to "impress" the audience, which he could drop in private, or his real haven had been his office, in a sense… The place which suited him best and where he spent most of his time, while these rooms had merely been used during torpor and, as such, he had not put too much effort or consideration in furnishing and decorating them. Or he had more than one side, more than one face, which was also most likely, especially for members of our Clan…

I snapped myself out of this train of thoughts, since I was once again fully clothed and ready to leave. I took one last look in the mirror and in my purse, reassuring myself that it did not contain anything that may cause a problem with the security at the airport: even though we were travelling with a special private jet, we still had to undergo the scans and procedures and attracting attention was never a good idea, no matter how proficient at Domination I could be. The intercom buzzed and Chunk's tremulous voice announced that Cutteridge was waiting for me in the lobby and someone was coming to pick up my luggage. I opened the door and recognised the guy as Martin, one of the Primogen's ghouls: he was very tall and very bulky, like an armoire on two feet. Of course, after having been in the presence of the former Sheriff, Martin paled in comparison, but at least he could carry out some semblance of conversation, even if he was not a man of many words.

Once we reached the entrance hall, I could sense that Cutteridge was impatient and nervous, while poor Chunk seemed nearly petrified: being in the Primogen's presence was very similar to entering a freezer and tonight he was even more cadaverous than usual. A wonderful way to start this trip.

"President Cutteridge," I greeted him politely, bending my head to perform a subtle bow, as he nodded in return. I could not exactly call him Primogen in front of a Kine.

"I hear ya're going to Florida, Ms Wilson," Chunk spoke up unexpectedly, as I was about to walk to the entrance.

"Yes, that is correct," I replied with a neutral tone.

"How long will you be out? You know… if someone calls here instead of on your private line and wants to speak with you..." he trailed off, his face reddening a bit and then whitening as Cutteridge sent one of his trademark icicle glares his way. The fact that he was more concerned (or curious) about my absence than worried about Cutteridge was very tender and slightly disturbing. Well, so was Chunk, generally speaking.

"We will probably return on Monday, but, please, forward any call to Jill."

"Sure thing… You know, I auditioned for the Dolphins back in the days… Ah, they said I was smashing," he announced with a proud smile. I wondered if it had been a virtual try-out for his virtual footballer career, but I decided I did not really want to know.

"Ah, yes… that is… interesting. Goodbye Chunk," I drawled in a neutral tone, walking towards the exit with Cutteridge, annoyance and boredom etched on his stern features.

The ride to the airport was immersed in perfect silence, and I took the occasion to start analysing the draft of the quarterly, while taking some notes. Thankfully the limo provided us with plenty of space to ignore each other.

We arrived at LAX roughly two hour before sunrise and quickly went to the area reserved to the passengers of private jets. Scans and procedures were speedily handled and we soon were sitting on the comfy leather chairs of the special "Kindred-friendly" jet, which belonged to the Foundation. It had a sealable area in the back with no windows where Kindred could rest safely, unless the plane crashed, of course, and even those in the front compartment near the cockpit were tinted and could be shuttered. The plan was to fly to Miami during the time of torpor, taking advantage of the different time zones to arrive there when sunset was approaching, thus saving time, although it was slightly more risky than travelling only at night.

I sipped on some blood brought by the ghoul hostess, scribbling a few minor corrections besides the commentary to a chart, when a sudden movement made me look up at Cutteridge, who was seated across from me, although at a good distance. His head had fallen down, his chin resting on his chest, his white hair working like a perfect curtain: torpor. The fact that my humanity was much stronger than his did not come exactly as a revelation, considering his appearance: he had probably tried to resist as long as he could, which would explain his being even grumpier than usual. The plane lurched a little and the glass in his hand, now devoid of a firm grip, shot forward, blood threatening to spill on my papers, before it rolled on the table and crashed on the floor, alerting the hostess.

I gathered up the folder as fast as I could, but a few droplets had already seeped on the top of the page, staining it irremediably. I took a few wet wipes and, with the help of the attendant, we managed to contain the mess. The important thing was that no evident bloodstain got on our clothing: that would have been hard to explain during a control, especially if it were in large quantity. The girl arranged the Primogen's chair so that it was in a reclined position and he may "sleep" more comfortably. Deciding one incident was enough, I finished my blood and tilted back my own seat. I was about to put away the document, when the largest blot caught my eye and, as a consequence, the text next to it. There was the amount of some expenses dated a few days before my employment at the foundation and something in it struck me as odd and familiar at the same time. I underlined the figure to remind myself I should check it more in depth, closed the folder and snuggled back in the chair, wishing for torpor to come, since the flight would be already over when I woke up. I was practically counting down the hours that I had still to spend in Cutteridge's presence: Monday could not come too soon, as far as I was concerned.

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**A/N: First of all, sorry for the delay, but exams come first and they take practically all of my time. This chapter was supposed to be much longer, but I decided to cut it here, first of all so that it would not be too long between updates and then because the next chapter will be really important and I want to be able to fully concentrate on it when I write it.**** So this is an introduction of sorts.**

**My deepest thanks to ****sister-b****, ****StrangeoneXD****, ****Olivia****, ****Pagan Witch**** and ****Loving Companion Cube**** for your reviews and support.**

**Olivia: ****you always make perfect sense, do not worry. Thanks for the reassurance, as you see I will try to refrain from using that adjective again. As for Mercurio, well, you have already read my explanation in the chapter so… I did not think that it would make much sense for him being LaCroix's ghoul, since in the Camarilla Ending (well, in all the endings when you do not side with LaCroix) he still helps you even if you are plotting against him. Had he been fully bound to the Prince, I do not think this would have been possible, it would have taken him a great effort to betray his Regent in such a way… Plus I did not want an aging and miserable Mercurio in my story: he is a great character, so…**

**Thank you to all the readers and subscribers: it is great to know that you are out there!**

**Finally, a special thank you to Loving Companion Cube, for being a great Strauss ;) and putting up with all my doubts.**


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